SOje  RtberstDe  Literature  Scries 


A WONDER-BOOK 


FOR  GIRLS  AND  BOYS 

PART  I. 


BY 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 


HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

Boston : 4 Park  Street ; New  York : 85  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  378*388  Wabash  Avenue 

(Cfce  iftitiergt&e  pr e#j,  <Camferi&0e 


CONTENTS, 


Page 

Introductory  Note 9 

Preface ’ . „ . 13 

The  Gorgon’s  Head 15 

The  Golden  Touch 51 

The  Paradise  of  Children 78 

Notes 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Perseus  showing  the  Gorgon’s  Head Frontispiece 

The  Stranger  appearing  to  Midas 58 

Pandora  opens  the  Box 94 


Copyright,  1851, 

By  NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 
Copyright,  1879, 

By  ROSE  HAWTHORNE  LATHROP. 

Copyright,  1883  and  1898, 

By  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  & CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


Houghton,  Mifflin  & Co.  are  the  only  authorized  publishers 
of  the  works  of  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Holmes,  Emer- 
son, Thoreau,  and  Hawthorne.  All  editions  which  lack  the 
imprint  or  authorization  of  Houghton , Mifflin  & Co.  are  issued 
without  the  consent  and  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  authors  or 
their  heirs. 


TIE  XT, 
^3^-/3 
fro  ugH 
I#  E% 
l 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


THE  WONDER-BOOK 

Even  from  the  data  to  be  obtained  by  a perusal  of 
his  works,  the  general  reader  will  be  likely  to  infer 
that  Hawthorne  took  a vital  interest  in  child-life ; and 
in  his  published  Note-Books  are  found  many  brief 
memoranda  which  indicate  his  disposition  to  write  for 
children.  After  he  married  and  had  begun  to  rear 
a family  of  his  own,  this  interest  of  his  in  the  ear- 
liest developments  of  mind  and  character  became,  nat- 
urally, much  more  active.  He  was  accustomed  to  ob- 
serve his  children  very  closely.  There  are  private 
manuscripts  still  extant,  which  present  exact  records 
of  what  his  young  son  and  elder  daughter  said  or 
did,  from  hour  to  hour  ; the  father  seating  himself  in 
their  play-room  and  patiently  noting  all  that  passed. 

To  this  habit  of  watchful  and  sympathetic  scrutiny 
we  may  attribute  in  part  the  remarkable  felicity,  the 
fortunate  ease  of  adaptation  to  the  immature  under- 
standing, and  the  skilful  appeal  to  fresh  imaginations* 
which  characterize  his  stories  for  the  young.  Natural 
tact  and  insight  prompted,  faithful  study  from  the  real 
assisted,  these  productions. 

While  still  living  at  Lenox,  and  soon  after  publish- 
ing “ The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,”  he  sketched  as 
follows,  in  a letter  to  Mr.  James  T.  Fields,  May  23, 


10 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


1851,  his  plan  for  the  work  which  this  note  accom- 
panies : — 

“ I mean  to  write,  within  six  weeks  or  two  months 
4ext  ensuing,  a book  of  stories  made  up  of  classical 
myths.  The  subjects  are  : The  Story  of  Midas,  with 
liis  Golden  Touch,  Pandora’s  Box,  The  Adventure  of 
Hercules  in  quest  of  the  Golden  Apples,  Bellerophon 
and  the  Chimsera,  Baucis  and  Philemon,  Perseus  and 
Medusa ; these,  I think,  will  be  enough  to  make  up  a 
volume.  As  a framework,  I shall  have  a young  col- 
lege-student telling  these  stories  to  his  cousins  and 
brothers  and  sisters,  during  his  vacations,  sometimes 
at  the  fireside,  sometimes  in  the  woods  and  dells.  Un- 
less I greatly  mistake,  these  old  fictions  will  work  up 
admirably  for  the  purpose  ; and  I shall  aim  at  substi- 
tuting a tone  in  some  degree  Gothic  or  romantic,  or 
any  such  tone  as  may  best  please  myself,  instead  of 
the  classic  coldness  which  is  as  repellant  as  the  touch 
of  marble.” 

With  such  precision  as  to  time  did  he  carry  out  this 
scheme,  that  on  the  15th  of  July  he  wrote  the  Preface 
to  the  completed  volume.  It  was  unusual,  however, 
for  him  to  work  with  such  rapidity,  or  indeed  to  write 
at  all  in  the  summer  season ; and  this  exertion,  com- 
ing so  soon  after  his  work  upon  the  romance,  may 
have  had  something  to  do  with  increasing  a languor 
which  he  had  already  begun  to  feel,  and  inducing  him 
to  remove  from  Lenox  in  the  autumn.  While  he  re- 
mained in  Berkshire  he  had  more  or  less  literary  com- 
panionship, which  is  alluded  to  in  the  Note-Books  and 
also  in  the  closing  chapter  of  the  “ W onder-Book,’* 
where  he  likewise  refers  thus  to  himself  : — 

“ * Have  we  not  an  author  for  our  next  neighbor  ? * 
asked  Primrose.  4 That  silent  man,  who  lives  in  the 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 


11 


old  red  house  near  Tanglewood  Avenue,  and  whom  we 
sometimes  meet,  with  two  children  at  his  side,  in  the 
woods  or  at  the  lake.  I think  I have  heard  of  his  hav- 
ing written  a poem,  or  a romance,  or  an  arithmetic,  or 
a school-history,  or  something  of  that  kind.’  ” 

The  manuscript  of  the  “ Wonder-  Book  ” is  the  only 
one  of  Hawthorne’s  completed  books  which,  in  its 
original  form,  is  owned  by  any  member  of  his  family. 
The  book  was  written  on  thin  blue  paper  of  rather 
large  size,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  pages.  Scarcely  a 
correction  or  an  erasure  occurs,  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end;  and  wherever  an  alteration  was  made,  the 
after-thought  was  evidently  so  swift  that  the  author 
did  not  stop  to  blot,  for  the  word  first  written  is  merely 
smeared  into  illegibility  and  another  substituted  for  it. 
It  appears  to  be  certain  that,  although  Hawthorne 
meditated  long  over  what  he  intended  to  do  and  came 
rather  slowly  to  the  point  of  publication,  yet  when  the 
actual  task  of  writing  was  begun  it  proceeded  rapidly 
and  with  very  little  correction  ; and  in  most  cases 
probably  very  little  re-drafting  was  done.  His  private 
correspondence  exhibits  the  same  easy  flow  of  composi- 
tion, in  sentences  of  notable  finish ; offering  a marked 
contrast,  for  example,  to  the  habit  of  the  historian 
Motley,  who  even  in  his  letters  expunged  words  on 
every  page. 

The  “ W onder-Book  ” proved  to  be  a financial  as 
well  as  literary  success,  and  was  presently  translated 

and  published  in  Germany. 

G.  P.  Xu 


PREFACE. 


The  author  has  long  been  of  opinion  that  many  of 
the  classical  myths  were  capable  of  being  rendered 
into  very  capital  reading  for  children.  In  the  little 
volume  here  offered  to  the  public,  he  has  worked  up 
half  a dozen  of  them,  with  this  end  in  view.  A great 
freedom  of  treatment  was  necessary  to  his  plan  ; but 
it  will  be  observed  by  every  one  who  attempts  to  ren- 
der these  legends  malleable  in  his  intellectual  furnace, 
that  they  are  marvellously  independent  of  all  tempo- 
rary modes  and  circumstances  They  remain  essen- 
tially the  same,  after  changes  that  would  affect  the 
identity  of  almost  anything  else. 

He  does  not,  therefore,  plead  guilty  to  a sacrilege, 
in  having  sometimes  shaped  anew,  as  his  fancy  dic- 
tated, the  forms  that  have  been  hallowed  by  an  antiq- 
uity of  two  or  three  thousand  years.  No  epoch  of  time 
can  claim  a copyright  in  these  immortal  fables.  They 
seem  never  to  have  been  made ; and  certainly,  so  long 
as  man  exists,  they  can  never  perish  ; but,  by  their  in- 
destructibility itself,  they  are  legitimate  subjects  for 
every  age  to  clothe  with  its  own  garniture  of  manners 
and  sentiment,  and  to  imbue  with  its  own  morality. 
In  the  present  version  they  may  have  lost  much  of 
their  classical  aspect  (or,  at  all  events,  the  author  has 
not  been  careful  to  preserve  it),  and  have,  perhaps, 
assumed  a Gothic  or  romantic  guise. 


14 


PREFACE. 


In  performing  this  pleasant  task,  — for  it  has  been 
really  a task  fit  for  hot  weather,  and  one  of  the  most 
agreeable,  of  a literary  kind,  which  he  ever  undertook, 
— the  author  has  not  always  thought  it  necessary  to 
write  downward,  in  order  to  meet  the  comprehension 
of  children.  He  has  generally  suffered  the  theme  to 
soar,  whenever  such  was  its  tendency,  and  when  he 
himself  was  buoyant  enough  to  follow  without  an  ef- 
fort. Children  possess  an  unestimated  sensibility  to 
whatever  is  deep  or  high,  in  imagination  or  feeling,  so 
long  as  it  is  simple,  likewise.  It  is  only  the  artificial 
stnd  the  complex  that  bewilder  them, 

Lenox,  July  15,  1851. 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD, 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH, 

INTRODUCTORY  TO  “ THE  GORGON’S  HEAD.” 

Beneath  the  porch  of  the  country-seat  called  Tan- 
glewood,  one  fine  autumnal  morning,  was  assembled 
a merry  party  of  little  folks,  with  a tall  youth  in  the 
midst  of  them.  They  had  planned  a nutting  expedi- 
tion, and  were  impatiently  waiting  for  the  mists  to  roll 
up  the  hill-slopes,  and  for  the  sun  to  pour  the  warmth 
of  the  Indian  summer  over  the  fields  and  pastures,  and 
into  the  nooks  of  the  many-colored  woods.  There  was 
a prospect  of  as  fine  aTctay  as  ever  gladdened  the  as- 
pect of  this  beautiful  and  comfortable  world.  As  yet, 
however,  the  morning  mist  filled  up  the  whole  length 
and  breadth  of  the  valley,  above  which,  on  a gently 
sloping  eminence,  the  mansion  stood. 

This  body  of  white  vapor  extended  to  within  less 
than  a hundred  yards  of  the  house.  It  completely  hid 
everything  beyond  that  distance,  except  a few  ruddy 
or  yellow  tree-tops,  which  here  and  there  emerged,  and 
were  glorified  by  the  early  sunshine,  as  was  likewise 
the  broad  surface  of  the  mist.  Four  or  five  miles  off 
to  the  southward  rose  the  summit  of  Monument  Moun- 
tain, and  seemed  to  be  floating  on  a cloud.  Some  fit- 


16 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


teen  miles  farther  away,  in  the  same  direction,  ap- 
peared the  loftier  Dome  of  Taconic,  looking  blue  and 
indistinct,  and  hardly  so  substantial  as  the  vapory  sea 
that  almost  rolled  over  it.  The  nearer  hills,  which 
bordered  the  valley,  were  half  submerged,  and  were 
specked  with  little  cloud-wreaths  all  the  way  to  their 
tops.  On  the  whole,  there  was  so  much  cloud,  and  so 
little  solid  earth,  that  it  had  the  effect  of  a vision. 

The  children  above-mentioned,  being  as  full  of  life 
as  they  could  hold,  kept  overflowing  from  the  porch  of 
Tanglewood,  and  scampering  along  the  gravel-walk,  or 
rushing  across  the  dewy  herbage  of  the  lawn.  I can 
hardly  tell  how  many  of  these  small  people  there  were  ; 
not  less  then  nine  or  ten,  however,  nor  more  than  a 
dozen,  of  all  sorts,  sizes,  and  ages,  whether  girls  or 
boys.  They  were  brothers,  sisters,  and  cousins,  to- 
gether with  a few  of  their  young  acquaintances,  who 
had  been  invited  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pringle  to  spend 
some  of  this  delightful  weather  with  their  own  chil- 
dren, at  Tanglewood.  I am  afraid  to  tell  you  their 
names,  or  even  to  give  them  any  names  which  other 
children  have  ever  been  called  by ; because,  to  my  cer- 
tain knowledge,  authors  sometimes  get  themselves  into 
great  trouble  by  accidentally  giving  the  names  of  real 
persons  to  the  characters  in  their  books.  For  this  rea- 
son, I mean  to  call  them  Primrose,  Periwinkle,  Sweet 
Fern,  Dandelion,  Blue  Eye,  Clover,  Huckleberry,  Cow- 
slip, Squash-Blossom,  Milkweed,  Plantain,  and  Butter- 
cup ; although,  to  be  sure,  such  titles  might  better 
suit  a group  of  fairies  than  a company  of  earthly  chil- 
dren. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  little  folks  were 
to  be  permitted  by  their  careful  fathers  and  mothers, 
uncles,  aunts,  or  grandparents,  to  stray  abroad  into 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


17 


the  woods  and  fields,  without  the  guardianship  of  some 
particularly  grave  and  elderly  person.  Oh  no,  indeed! 
In  the  first  sentence  of  my  book,  you  will  recollect  that 
I spoke  of  a tall  youth,  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
children.  His  name — (and  I shall  let  you  know  his 
real  name,  because  he  considers  it  a great  honor  to 
have  told  the  stories  that  are  here  to  be  printed)  — 
his  name  was  Eustace  Bright.  He  was  a student  at 
Williams  College,  and  had  reached,  I think,  at  this 
period,  the  venerable  age  of  eighteen  years ; so  that 
he  felt  quite  like  a grandfather  towards  Periwinkle, 
Dandelion,  Huckleberry,  Squash-Blossom,  Milkweed, 
and  the  rest,  who  were  only  half  or  a third  as  vener- 
able as  he.  A trouble  in  his  eyesight  (such  as  many 
students  think  it  necessary  to  have,  nowadays,  in  order 
to  prove  their  diligence  at  their  books)  had  kept  him 
from  college  a week  or  two  after  the  beginning  of  the 
term.  But,  for  my  part,  I have  seldom  met  with  a 
pair  of  eyes  that  looked  as  if  they  could  see  farther  or 
better  than  those  of  Eustace  Bright. 

This  learned  student  was  slender,  and  rather  pale, 
as  all  Yankee  students  are ; but  yet  of  a healthy  as- 
pect, and  as  light  and  active  as  if  he  had  wings  to  his 
shoes.  By  the  by,  being  much  addicted  to  wading 
through  streamlets  and  across  meadows,  he  had  put  on 
cowhide  boots  for  the  expedition.  He  wore  a linen 
blouse,  a cloth  cap,  and  a pair  of  green  spectacles, 
which  he  had  assumed,  probably,  less  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  his  eyes  than  for  the  dignity  that  they  imparted 
to  his  countenance.  In  either  case,  however,  he  might 
as  well  have  let  them  alone ; for  Huckleberry,  a mis* 
chievous  little  elf,  crept  behind  Eustace  as  he  sat  on 
the  steps  of  the  porch,  snatched  the  spectacles  from  his 
nose,  and  clapped  them  on  her  own ; and  as  the  stu* 


18 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


dent  forgot  to  take  them  back,  they  fell  off  into  the 
grass,  and  lay  there  till  the  next  spring. 

Now,  Eustace  Bright,  you  must  know5  had  won  great 
fame  among  the  children,  as  a narrator  of  wonderful 
stories ; and  though  he  sometimes  pretended  to  be  an- 
noyed, when  they  teased  him  for  more,  and  more,  and 
always  for  more,  yet  I really  doubt  whether  he  liked 
anything  quite  so  well  as  to  tell  them.  You  might 
have  seen  his  eyes  twinkle,  therefore,  when  Clover, 
Sweet  Fern,  Cowslip,  Buttercup,  and  most  of  their 
playmates,  besought  him  to  relate  one  of  his  stories, 
while  they  were  waiting  for  the  mist  to  clear  up. 

44  Yes,  Cousin  Eustace,”  said  Primrose,  who  was  a 
bright  girl  of  twelve,  with  laughing  eyes,  and  a nose 
that  turned  up  a little,  44  the  morning  is  certainly  the 
best  time  for  the  stories  with  which  you  so  often  tire 
out  our  patience.  We  shall  be  in  less  danger  of  hurt- 
ing  your  feelings,  by  falling  asleep  at  the  most  in- 
teresting points,  — as  little  Cowslip  and  I did  last 
night ! ” 

44  Naughty  Primrose,”  cried  Cowslip,  a child  of  six 
years  old  ; 44 1 did  not  fall  asleep,  and  I only  shut  my 
eyes,  so  as  to  see  a picture  of  what  Cousin  Eustace  was 
telling  about.  His  stories  are  good  to  hear  at  night, 
because  we  can  dream  about  them  asleep ; and  good  in 
the  morning,  too,  because  then  we  can  dream  about 
them  awake.  So  I hope  he  will  tell  us  one  this  very 
minute.” 

44  Thank  you,  my  little  Cowslip,”  said  Eustace ; 
44  certainly  you  shall  have  the  best  story  I can  think 
of,  if  it  were  only  for  defending  me  so  well  from  that 
naughty  Primrose.  But,  children,  I have  already  told 
you  so  many  fairy  tales,  that  I doubt  whether  there  is 
a single  one  which  you  have  not  heard  at  least  twice 


TANGLE  WOOD  PORCH.  19 

over.  I am  afraid  you  will  fall  asleep  in  reality,  if  1 
repeat  any  of  them  again.” 

44  No,  no,  no  ! ” cried  Blue  Eye,  Periwinkle,  Plan- 
tain, and  half  a dozen  others.  46  W e like  a story  all 
the  better  for  having  heard  it  two  or  three  times  be* 
fore.” 

And  it  is  a truth,  as  regards  children,  that  a storj 
seems  often  to  deepen  its  mark  in  their  interest,  not 
merely  by  two  or  three,  but  by  numberless  repetitions* 
But  Eustace  Bright,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  re- 
sources, scorned  to  avail  himself  of  an  advantage 
which  an  older  story-teller  would  have  been  glad  to 
grasp  at. 

44  It  would  be  a great  pity,”  said  he,  44  if  a man  of 
my  learning  (to  say  nothing  of  original  fancy)  could 
not  find  a new  story  every  day,  year  in  and  year  out, 
for  children  such  as  you.  I will  tell  you  one  of  the 
nursery  tales  that  were  made  for  the  amusement  of 
our  great  old  grandmother,  the  Earth,  when  she  was  a 
child  in  frock  and  pinafore.  There  are  a hundred 
such  ; and  it  is  a wonder  to  me  that  they  have  not 
long  ago  been  put  into  picture-books  for  little  girls 
and  boys.  But,  instead  of  that,  old  gray -bearded 
grandsires  pore  over  them  in  musty  volumes  of  Greek, 
and  puzzle  themselves  with  trying  to  find  out  when, 
and  how,  and  for  what  they  were  made.” 

44  Well,  well,  well,  well,  Cousin  Eustace !”  cried  all 
the  children  at  once ; 44  talk  no  more  about  your  sto- 
ries, but  begin.” 

44  Sit  down,  then,  every  soul  of  you,”  said  Eustace 
Bright,  44  and  be  all  as  still  as  so  many  mice.  At  the 
slightest  interruption,  whether  from  great,  naughty 
Primrose,  little  Dandelion,  or  any  other,  I shall  bite 
the  story  short  off  between  my  teeth,  and  swallow  the 


20 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


untold  part.  But,  in  the  first  place,  do  any  of  you 
know  what  a Gorgon  is  ? ” 

64 1 do,”  said  Primrose. 

44  Then  hold  your  tongue ! ” rejoined  Eustace,  who 
had  rather  she  would  have  known  nothing  about  the 
matter.  44  Hold  all  your  tongues,  and  I shall  tell  you 
a sweet  pretty  story  of  a Gorgon’s  head.” 

And  so  he  did,  as  you  may  begin  to  read  on  the 
next  page.  Working  up  his  sophomorical  erudition 
with  a good  deal  of  tact,  and  incurring  great  obliga- 
tions to  Professor  Anthon,  he,  nevertheless,  disre- 
garded all  classical  authorities,  whenever  the  vagrant 
audacity  of  his  imagination  impelled  him  to  do  so. 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


Perseus  was  the  son  of  Danae,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a king.  And  when  Perseus  was  a very 
little  boy,  some  wicked  people  put  his  mother  and 
himself  into  a chest,  and  set  them  afloat  upon  the  sea. 
The  wind  blew  freshly,  and  drove  the  chest  away  from 
the  shore,  and  the  uneasy  billows  tossed  it  up  and 
down ; while  Danae  clasped  her  child  closely  to  her 
bosom,  and  dreaded  that  some  big  wave  would  dash 
its  foamy  crest  over  them  both.  The  chest  sailed  on, 
however,  and  neither  sank  nor  was  upset ; until,  when 
night  was  coming,  it  floated  so  near  an  island  that  it 
got  entangled  in  a fisherman’s  nets,  and  was  drawn 
out  high  and  dry  upon  the  sand.  The  island  was 
called  Seriphus,  and  it  was  reigned  over  by  King 
Polydectes,  who  happened  to  be  the  fisherman’s 
brother. 

This  fisherman,  I am  glad  to  tell  you,  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly humane  and  upright  man.  He  showed  great 
kindness  to  Danae  and  her  little  boy ; and  continued 
to  befriend  them,  until  Perseus  had  grown  to  be  a 
handsome  youth,  very  strong  and  active,  and  skilful 
in  the  use  of  arms.  Long  before  this  time,  King 
Polydectes  had  seen  the  two  strangers  — the  mother 
and  her  child  — who  had  come  to  his  dominions  in  a 
floating  chest.  As  he  was  not  good  and  kind,  like  his 
brother  the  fisherman,  but  extremely  wicked,  he  re- 
solved to  send  Perseus  on  a dangerous  enterprise,  in 
which  he  would  probably  be  killed,  and  then  to  do 


22 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAR , 


some  great  mischief  to  Danae  herself.  So  this  bad- 
hearted  king  spent  a long  while  in  considering  what 
was  the  most  dangerous  thing  that  a young  man  could 
possibly  undertake  to  perform.  At  last,  having  hit 
upon  an  enterprise  that  promised  to  turn  out  as  fa- 
tally as  he  desired,  he  sent  for  the  youthful  Perseus. 

The  young  man  came  to  the  palace,  and  found  the 
king  sitting  upon  his  throne. 

“ Perseus,”  said  King  Polydectes,  smiling  craftily 
upon  him,  “you  are  grown  up  a fine  young  man.  You 
and  your  good  mother  have  received  a great  deal  of 
kindness  from  myself,  as  well  as  from  my  worthy 
brother  the  fisherman,  and  I suppose  you  would  not 
be  sorry  to  repay  some  of  it.” 

“ Please  your  Majesty,”  answered  Perseus,  44 1 
would  willingly  risk  my  life  to  do  so.” 

“Well,  then,”  continued  the  king,  still  with  a cun- 
ning smile  on  his  lips,  “ I have  a little  adventure  to 
propose  to  you  ; and,  as  you  are  a brave  and  enterpris- 
ing youth,  you  will  doubtless  look  upon  it  as  a great 
piece  of  good  luck  to  have  so  rare  an  opportunity  of 
distinguishing  yourself.  You  must  know,  my  good 
Perseus,  I think  of  getting  married  to  the  beautiful 
Princess  Hippodamia ; and  it  is  customary,  on  these 
occasions,  to  make  the  bride  a present  of  some  far- 
fetched and  elegant  curiosity.  I have  been  a little 
perplexed,  I must  honestly  confess,  where  to  obtain 
anything  likely  to  please  a princess  of  her  exquisite 
taste.  But,  this  morning,  I flatter  myself,  I have 
thought  of  precisely  the  article.” 

“ And  can  I assist  your  Majesty  in  obtaining  it  ? ” 
cried  Perseus,  eagerly. 

“ You  can,  if  you  are  as  brave  a youth  as  I believe 
you  to  be,”  replied  King  Polydectes,  with  the  utmost 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


23 


graciousness  of  manner.  “ The  bridal  gift  which  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  presenting  to  the  beautiful  Hip- 
podamia  is  the  head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks ; and  I depend  on  you,  my  dear  Perseus, 
to  bring  it  to  me.  So,  as  I am  anxious  to  settle  affairs 
with  the  princess,  the  sooner  you  go  in  quest  of  the 
Gorgon,  the  better  I shall  be  pleased.” 

“ I will  set  out  to-morrow  morning,”  answered 
Perseus. 

14  Pray  do  so,  my  gallant  youth,”  rejoined  the  king. 
•6  And,  Perseus,  in  cutting  off  the  Gorgon’s  head,  be 
careful  to  make  a clean  stroke,  so  as  not  to  injure  its 
appearance.  You  must  bring  it  home  in  the  very  best 
condition,  in  order  to  suit  the  exquisite  taste  of  the 
beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia.” 

Perseus  left  the  palace,  but  was  scarcely  out  of 
hearing  before  Polydectes  burst  into  a laugh  ; being 
greatly  amused,  wicked  king  that  he  was,  to  find  how 
readily  the  young  man  fell  into  the  snare.  The  news 
quickly  spread  abroad  that  Perseus  had  undertaken  to 
cut  off  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks. 
Everybody  was  rejoiced ; for  most  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  island  were  as  wicked  as  the  king  himself,  and 
would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see  some 
enormous  mischief  happen  to  Danae  and  her  son. 
The  only  good  man  in  this  unfortunate  island  of  Seri- 
phus  appears  to  have  been  the  fisherman.  As  Perseus 
walked  along,  therefore,  the  people  pointed  after  him, 
and  made  mouths,  and  winked  to  one  another,  and 
ridiculed  him  as  loudly  as  they  dared. 

“ Ho,  ho ! ” cried  they  ; “ Medusa’s  snakes  will  sting 
him  soundly ! ” 

Now,  there  were  three  Gorgons  alive  at  that  period; 
and  they  were  the  most  strange  and  terrible  monsters 


24: 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD . 


that  had  ever  been  since  the  world  was  made,  or  that 
have  been  seen  in  after  days,  or  that  are  likely  to  be 
seen  in  all  time  to  come.  I hardly  know  what  sort  of 
creature  or  hobgoblin  to  call  them.  They  were  three 
sisters,  and  seem  to  have  borne  some  distant  resem- 
blance to  women,  but  were  really  a very  frightful  and 
mischievous  species  of  dragon.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult 
to  imagine  what  hideous  beings  these  three  sisters 
were.  Why,  instead  of  locks  of  hair,  if  you  can  be- 
lieve me,  they  had  each  of  them  a hundred  enormous 
snakes  growing  on  their  heads,  all  alive,  twisting, 
wriggling,  curling,  and  thrusting  out  their  venomous 
tongues,  with  forked  stings  at  the  end  ! The  teeth 
of  the  Gorgons  were  terribly  long  tusks  ; their  hands 
were  made  of  brass ; and  their  bodies  were  all  over 
scales,  which,  if  not  iron,  were  something  as  hard  and 
impenetrable.  They  had  wings,  too,  and  exceedingly 
splendid  ones,  I can  assure  you  ; for  every  feather  in 
them  was  pure,  bright,  glittering,  burnished  gold,  and 
they  looked  very  dazzlingly,  no  doubt,  when  the  Gor- 
gons were  flying  about  in  the  sunshine. 

But  when  people  happened  to  catch  a glimpse  of 
their  glittering  brightness,  aloft  in  the  air,  they  sel- 
dom stopped  to  gaze,  but  ran  and  hid  themselves  as 
speedily  as  they  could.  You  will  think,  perhaps,  that 
they  were  afraid  of  being  stung  by  the  serpents  that 
served  the  Gorgons  instead  of  hair,  — or  of  having 
their  heads  bitten  off  by  their  ugly  tusks,  — or  of  be- 
ing torn  all  to  pieces  by  their  brazen  claws.  Well,  to 
be  sure,  these  were  some  of  the  dangers,  but  by  no 
means  the  greatest,  nor  the  most  difficult  to  avoid. 
For  the  worst  thing  about  these  abominable  Gorgons 
was,  that,  if  once  a poor  mortal  fixed  his  eyes  full 
upon  one  of  their  faces,  he  was  certain,  that  very  in- 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD.  25 

stant  to  be  changed  from  warm  flesh  and  blood  into 
cold  and  lifeless  stone  ! 

Thus,  as  you  will  easily  perceive,  it  was  a very  dan- 
gerous adventure  that  the  wicked  King  Polydectes  had 
contrived  for  this  innocent  young  man.  Perseus  him- 
self, when  he  had  thought  over  the  matter,  could  not 
help  seeing  that  he  had  very  little  chance  of  coming 
safely  through  it,  and  that  he  was  far  more  likely  to 
become  a stone  image  than  to  bring  back  the  head  of 
Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks.  For,  not  to  speak  of 
other  difficulties,  there  was  one  which  it  would  have 
puzzled  an  older  man  than  Perseus  to  get  over.  Not 
only  must  he  fight  with  and  slay  this  golden-winged, 
iron-scaled,  long-tusked,  brazen-clawed,  snaky-haired 
monster,  but  he  must  do  it  with  his  eyes  shut,  or,  at 
least,  without  so  much  as  a glance  at  the  enemy  with 
whom  he  was  contending.  Else,  while  his  arm  was 
lifted  to  strike,  he  would  stiffen  into  stone,  and  stand 
with  that  uplifted  arm  for  centuries,  until  time,  and 
the  wind  and  weather,  should  crumble  him  quite  away. 
This  would  be  a very  sad  thing  to  befall  a young  man 
who  wanted  to  perform  a great  many  brave  deeds,  and 
to  enjoy  a great  deal  of  happiness,  in  this  bright  and 
beautiful  world. 

So  disconsolate  did  these  thoughts  make  him,  that 
Perseus  could  not  bear  to  tell  his  mother  what  he  had 
undertaken  to  do.  He  therefore  took  his  shield,  girded 
on  his  sword,  and  crossed  over  from  the  island  to  the 
mainland,  where  he  sat  down  in  a solitary  place,  and 
hardly  refrained  from  shedding  tears. 

But,  while  he  was  in  this  sorrowful  mood,  he  heard 
a voice  close  beside  him. 

“ Perseus,”  said  the  voice,  “ why  are  you  sad  ? ” 

He  lifted  his  head  from  his  hands,  in  which  he  had 


26 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD . 


hidden  it,  and,  behold ! all  alone  as  Perseus  had  sup- 
posed himself  to  be,  there  was  a stranger  in  the  soli- 
tary place.  It  was  a brisk,  intelligent,  and  remarka- 
bly shrewd-looking  young  man,  with  a cloak  over  his 
shoulders,  an  odd  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  a strangely 
twisted  staff  in  his  hand,  and  a short  and  very  crooked 
sword  hanging  by  his  side.  He  was  exceedingly  light 
and  active  in  his  figure,  like  a person  much  accustomed 
to  gymnastic  exercises,  and  well  able  to  leap  or  run. 
Above  all,  the  stranger  had  such  a cheerful,  knowing, 
and  helpful  aspect  (though  it  was  certainly  a little 
mischievous,  into  the  bargain),  that  Perseus  could  not 
help  feeling  his  spirits  grow  livelier  as  he  gazed  at 
him.  Besides,  being  really  a courageous  youth,  he  felt 
greatly  ashamed  that  anybody  should  have  found  him 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  like  a timid  little  school-boy, 
when,  after  all,  there  might  be  no  occasion  for  despair. 
So  Perseus  wiped  his  eyes,  and  answered  the  stranger 
pretty  briskly,  putting  on  as  brave  a look  as  he  could. 

“ I am  not  so  very  sad,”  said  he,  “ only  thoughtful 
about  an  adventure  that  I have  undertaken.” 

^ Oho  ! ” answered  the  stranger.  “ Well,  tell  me 
all  about  it,  and  possibly  I may  be  of  service  to  you. 
I have  helped  a good  many  young  men  through  adven- 
tures that  looked  difficult  enough  beforehand.  Per- 
haps you  may  have  heard  of  me.  I have  more  names 
than  one  ; but  the  name  of  Quicksilver  suits  me  as 
well  as  any  other.  Tell  me  what  the  trouble  is,  and  we 
will  talk  the  matter  over,  and  see  what  can  be  done.” 

The  stranger’s  words  and  manner  put  Perseus  into 
quite  a different  mood  from  his  former  one.  He  re- 
solved to  tell  Quicksilver  all  his  difficulties,  since  he 
could  not  easily  be  worse  off  than  he  already  was,  and, 
*ery  possibly,  his  new  friend  might  give  him  some  ad- 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


27 


vice  that  would  turn  out  well  in  the  end.  So  he 
let  the  stranger  know,  in  few  words,  precisely  what 
the  case  was,  — how  that  King  Polydectes  wanted  the 
head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks  as  a bridal  gift 
for  the  beautiful  Princess  Hippodamia,  and  how  that 
he  had  undertaken  to  get  it  for  him,  but  was  afraid  of 
being  turned  into  stone. 

“ And  that  would  be  a great  pity,”  said  Quicksilver, 
with  his  mischievous  smile.  “You  would  make  a very 
handsome  marble  statue,  it  is  true,  and  it  would  be  a 
considerable  number  of  centuries  before  you  crumbled 
away ; but,  on  the  whole,  one  would  rather  be  a young 
man  for  a few  years,  than  a stone  image  for  a great 
many.” 

“Oh,  far  rather!”  exclaimed  Perseus,  with  the  tears 
again  standing  in  his  eyes.  “ And,  besides,  what 
would  my  dear  mother  do,  if  her  beloved  son  were 
turned  into  a stone  ? ” 

“Well,  well,  let  us  hope  that  the  affair  will  not  turn 
out  so  very  badly,”  replied  Quicksilver,  in  an  encour- 
aging tone.  “ I am  the  very  person  to  help  you,  if 
anybody  can.  My  sister  and  myself  will  do  our  ut- 
most to  bring  you  safe  through  the  adventure,  ugly  as 
it  now  looks.” 

“ Your  sister  ? ” repeated  Perseus. 

“ Yes,  my  sister,”  said  the  stranger.  “ She  is  very 
wise,  I promise  you  ; and  as  for  myself,  I generally 
have  all  my  wits  about  me,  such  as  they  are.  If  you 
show  yourself  bold  and  cautious,  and  follow  our  advice,, 
you  need  not  fear  being  a stone  image  yet  awhile. 
But,  first  of  all,  you  must  polish  your  shield,  till  you 
can  see  your  face  in  it  as  distinctly  as  in  a mirror.” 

This  seemed  to  Perseus  rather  an  odd  beginning  of 
the  adventure ; for  he  thought  it  of  far  more  conse- 


28 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


quence  that  the  shield  should  be  strong  enough  to  de- 
fend him  from  the  Gorgon’s  brazen  claws,  than  that 
it  should  be  bright  enough  to  show  him  the  reflection 
of  his  face.  ^However,  concluding  that  Quicksilver 
knew  better  than  himself,  he  immediately  set  to  work, 
and  scrubbed  the  shield  with  so  much  diligence  and 
good-will,  that  it  very  quickly  shone  like  the  moon  at 
harvest-time.  Quicksilver  looked  at  it  with  a smile, 
and  nodded  his  approbation.  Then,  taking  off  his 
own  short  and  crooked  sword,  he  girded  it  about  Per- 
seus, instead  of  the  one  which  he  had  before  worn. 

“ No  sword  but  mine  will  answer  your  purpose,”  ob- 
served he ; “ the  blade  has  a most  excellent  temper, 
and  will  cut  through  iron  and  brass  as  easily  as  through 
the  slenderest  twig.  And  now  we  will  set  out.  The 
next  thing  is  to  find  the  Three  Gray  Women,  who  will 
tell  us  where  to  find  the  Nymphs.” 

“ The  Three  Gray  Women!”  cried  Perseus,  to 
whom  this  seemed  only  a new  difficulty  in  the  path  of 
his  adventure  ; “ pray  who  may  the  Three  Gray  Wo- 
men be  ? I never  heard  of  them  before.” 

“ They  are  three  very  strange  old  ladies,”  said 
Quicksilver,  laughing.  “ They  have  but  one  eye 
among  them,  and  only  one  tooth.  Moreover,  you 
must  find  them  out  by  starlight,  or  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening  ; for  they  never  show  themselves  by  the  light 
either  of  the  sun  or  moon.” 

“ But,”  said  Perseus,  “ why  should  I waste  my  time 
with  these  Three  Gray  W omen  ? W ould  it  not  be 
better  to  set  out  at  once  in  search  of  the  terrible  Gor- 
gons  ? ” 

“ No,  no,”  answered  his  friend.  “ There  are  other 
things  to  be  done,  before  you  can  find  your  way  to 
the  Gorgons.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  hunt  up 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD . 


29 


these  old  ladies  ; and  when  we  meet  with  them,  you 
may  be  sure  that  the  Gorgons  are  not  a great  way  off. 
Come,  let  us  be  stirring  ! ” 

Perseus,  by  this  time,  felt  so  much  confidence  in  his 
companion’s  sagacity,  that  he  made  no  more  objections, 
and  professed  himself  ready  to  begin  the  adventure  im- 
mediately. They  accordingly  set  out,  and  walked  at  a 
pretty  brisk  pace ; so  brisk,  indeed,  that  Perseus  found 
it  rather  difficult  to  keep  up  with  his  nimble  friend 
Quicksilver.  To  say  the  truth,  he  had  a singular  idea 
that  Quicksilver  was  furnished  with  a pair  of  winged 
shoes,  which,  of  course,  helped  him  along  marvel- 
lously. And  then,  too,  when  Perseus  looked  sideways 
at  him,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  he  seemed  to  see 
wings  on  the  side  of  his  head ; although,  if  he  turned 
a full  gaze,  there  were  no  such  things  to  be  perceived, 
but  only  an  odd  kind  of  cap.  But,  at  all  events,  the 
twisted  staff  was  evidently  a great  convenience  to 
Quicksilver,  and  enabled  him  to  proceed  so  fast,  that 
Perseus,  though  a remarkably  active  young  man,  be- 
gan to  be  out  of  breath. 

44  Here  ! ” cried  Quicksilver,  at  last,  — for  he  knew 
well  enough,  rogue  that  he  was,  how  hard  Perseus 
found  it  to  keep  pace  with  him,  — 44  take  you  the  staff, 
for  you  need  it  a great  deal  more  than  I.  Are  there 
no  better  walkers  than  yourself  in  the  island  of  Serb 
phus?” 

44 1 could  walk  pretty  well,”  said  Perseus,  glancing 
slyly  at  his  companion’s  feet,  44  if  I had  only  a pair  of 
winged  shoes.” 

44  We  must  see  about  getting  you  a pair,”  answered 
Quicksilver. 

But  the  staff  helped  Perseus  along  so  bravely,  that 
he  no  longer  felt  the  slightest  weariness.  In  fact,  the 


30 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


stick  seemed  to  be  alive  in  his  hand,  and  to  lend  some 
of  its  life  to  Perseus.  He  and  Quicksilver  now  walked 
onward  at  their  ease,  talking  very  sociably  together ; 
and  Quicksilver  told  so  many  pleasant  stories  about 
his  former  adventures,  and  how  well  his  wits  had  served 
him  on  various  occasions,  that  Perseus  began  to  think 
him  a very  wonderful  person.  He  evidently  knew  the 
world  ; and  nobody  is  so  charming  to  a young  man  as 
a friend  who  has  that  kind  of  knowledge.  Perseus 
listened  the  more  eagerly,  in  the  hope  of  brightening 
his  own  wits  by  what  he  heard. 

At  last,  he  happened  to  recollect  that  Quicksilver 
had  spoken  of  a sister,  who  was  to  lend  her  assistance 
in  the  adventure  which  they  were  now  bound  upon. 

“ Where  is  she  ? ” he  inquired.  “ Shall  we  not 
meet  her  soon  ? ” 

“All  at  the  proper  time,”  said  his  companion. 
“But  this  sister  of  mine,  you  must  understand,  is 
quite  a different  sort  of  character  from  myself.  She 
is  very  grave  and  prudent,  seldom  smiles,  never 
laughs,  and  makes  it  a rule  not  to  utter  a word  un- 
less she  has  something  particularly  profound  to  say. 
Neither  will  she  listen  to  any  but  the  wisest  conversa- 
tion.” 

“ Dear  me ! ” ejaculated  Perseus ; “ I shall  be  afraid 
to  say  a syllable.” 

“ She  is  a very  accomplished  person,  I assure  you,” 
continued  Quicksilver,  “and  has  all  the  arts  and 
sciences  at  her  fingers’  ends.  In  short,  she  is  so  im- 
moderately wise,  that  many  people  call  her  wisdom 
personified.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  she  has  hardly 
vivacity  enough  for  my  taste  ; and  I think  you  would 
scarcely  find  her  so  pleasant  a travelling  companion 
as  myself.  She  has  her  good  points,  nevertheless; 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD.  31 

and  you  will  find  the  benefit  of  them,  in  your  en- 
counter with  the  Gorgons.” 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  quite  dusk.  They  were 
now  come  to  a very  wild  and  desert  place,  overgrown 
with  shaggy  bushes,  and  so  silent  and  solitary  that 
nobody  seemed  ever  to  have  dwelt  or  journeyed  there. 
All  was  waste  and  desolate,  in  the  gray  twilight, 
which  grew  every  moment  more  obscure.  Perseus 
looked  about  him,  rather  disconsolately,  and  asked 
Quicksilver  whether  they  had  a great  deal  farther 
to  go. 

“Hist!  hist!”  whispered  his  companion.  “Make 
no  noise!  This  is  just  the  time  and  place  to  meet  the 
Three  Gray  Women.  Be  careful  that  they  do  not  see 
you  before  you  see  them ; for,  though  they  have  but  a 
single  eye  among  the  three,  it  is  as  sharp-sighted  as 
half  a dozen  common  eyes.” 

“ But  what  must  I do,”  asked  Perseus,  “ when  we 
meet  them?  ” 

Quicksilver  explained  to  Perseus  how  the  Three 
Gray  Women  managed  with  their  one  eye.  They 
were  in  the  habit,  it  seems,  of  changing  it  from  one  to 
another,  as  if  it  had  been  a pair  of  spectacles,  or  — 
which  would  have  suited  them  better  — a quizzing- 
glass.  When  one  of  the  three  had  kept  the  eye  a 
certain  time,  she  took  it  out  of  the  socket  and  passed 
it  to  one  of  her  sisters,  whose  turn  it  might  happen  to 
be,  and  who  immediately  clapped  it  into  her  own 
head,  and  enjoyed  a peep  at  the  visible  world.  Thus 
it  will  easily  be  understood  that  only  one  of  the  Three 
Gray  Women  could  see,  while  the  other  two  were  in 
utter  darkness ; and,  moreover,  at  the  instant  when 
the  eye  was  passing  from  hand  to  hand,  neither  of  the 
poor  old  ladies  was  able  to  see  a wink.  I have  heard 


32 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


of  a great  many  strange  things,  in  my  day,  and  have 
witnessed  not  a few ; but  none,  it  seems  to  me,  that 
can  compare  with  the  oddity  of  these  Three  Gray 
W omen,  all  peeping  through  a single  eye. 

So  thought  Perseus,  likewise,  and  was  so  astonished 
that  he  almost  fancied  his  companion  was  joking  with 
him,  and  that  there  were  no  such  old  women  in  the 
world. 

“ You  will  soon  find  whether  I tell  the  truth  or  no,” 
observed  Quicksilver.  “ Hark ! hush ! hist ! hist ! 
There  they  come,  now ! ” 

Perseus  looked  earnestly  through  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  and  there,  sure  enough,  at  no  great  distance 
off,  he  descried  the  Three  Gray  Women.  The  light 
being  so  faint,  he  could  not  well  make  out  what  sort 
of  figures  they  were;  only  he  discovered  that  they 
had  long  gray  hair  ; and,  as  they  came  nearer,  he  saw 
that  two  of  them  had  but  the  empty  socket  of  an  eye, 
in  the  middle  of  their  foreheads.  But,  in  the  middle 
of  the  third  sister’s  forehead,  there  was  a very  large, 
bright,  and  piercing  eye,  which  sparkled  like  a great 
diamond  in  a ring  ; and  so  penetrating  did  it  seem  to 
be,  that  Perseus  could  not  help  thinking  it  must  pos- 
sess the  gift  of  seeing  in  the  darkest  midnight  just  as 
perfectly  as  at  noonday.  The  sight  of  three  persons* 
eyes  was  melted  and  collected  into  that  single  one. 

Thus  the  three  old  dames  got  along  about  as  com- 
fortably, upon  the  whole,  as  if  they  could  all  see  at 
once.  She  who  chanced  to  have  the  eye  in  her  fore- 
head led  the  other  two  by  the  hands,  peeping  sharply 
about  her,  all  the  while ; insomuch  that  Perseus 
dreaded  lest  she  should  see  right  through  the  thick 
clump  of  bushes  behind  which  he  and  Quicksilver  had 
hidden  themselves.  My  stars  ! it  was  positively  terri* 
ble  to  be  within  reach  of  so  very  sharp  an  eye ! 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD . 38 

But*  before  they  reached  the  clump  of  bushes,  one 
of  the  Three  Gray  Women  spoke. 

“ Sister ! Sister  Scarecrow ! ” cried  she,  “ you  have 
had  the  eye  long  enough.  It  is  my  turn  now ! ” 

“Let  me  keep  it  a moment  longer,  Sister  Night- 
mare,” answered  Scarecrow.  “I  thought  I had  a 
glimpse  of  something  behind  that  thick  bush.” 

“Well,  and  what  of  that?”  retorted  Nightmare, 
peevishly.  “ Can’t  I see  into  a thick  bush  as  easily  as 
yourself  ? The  eye  is  mine  as  well  as  yours ; and  I 
know  the  use  of  it  as  well  as  you,  or  may  be  a little 
better.  I insist  upon  taking  a peep  immediately ! ” 
But  here  the  third  sister,  whose  name  was  Shake- 
joint,  began  to  complain,  and  said  that  it  was  her  turn 
to  have  the  eye,  and  that  Scarecrow  and  Nightmare 
wanted  to  keep  it  all  to  themselves.  To  end  the  dis- 
pute, old  Dame  Scarecrow  took  the  eye  out  of  her 
forehead,  and  held  it  forth  in  her  hand. 

“Take  it,  one  of  you,”  cried  she,  “and  quit  this 
foolish  quarrelling.  For  my  part,  I shall  be  glad  of  a 
little  thick  darkness.  Take  it  quickly,  however,  or  I 
must  clap  it  into  my  own  head  again ! ” 

Accordingly,  both  Nightmare  and  Shakejoint  put 
out  their  hands,  groping  eagerly  to  snatch  the  eye  out 
of  the  hand  of  Scarecrow.  But,  being  both  alike  blind, 
they  could  not  easily  find  where  Scarecrow’s  hand 
was ; and  Scarecrow,  being  now  just  as  much  in  the 
dark  as  Shakejoint  and  Nightmare,  could  not  at  once 
meet  either  of  their  hands,  in  order  to  put  the  eye 
into  it.  Thus  (as  you  will  see,  with  half  an  eye,  my 
wise  little  auditors),  these  good  old  dames  had  fallen 
into  a strange  perplexity.  For,  though  the  eye  shone 
and  glistened  like  a star,  as  Scarecrow  held  it  out,  yet 
the  Gray  Women  caught  not  the  least  glimpse  of  its 


M 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


light,  and  were  all  three  in  utter  darkness,  from  too 

impatient  a desire  to  see. 

Quicksilver  was  so  much  tickled  at  beholding  Shake- 
joint  and  Nightmare  both  groping  for  the  eye,  and 
each  finding  fault  with  Scarecrow  and  one  another, 
that  he  could  scarcely  help  laughing  aloud. 

46  Now  is  your  time  ! ” he  whispered  to  Perseus* 
“ Quick,  quick  ! before  they  can  clap  the  eye  into 
either  of  their  heads.  Rush  out  upon  the  old  ladies, 
and  snatch  it  from  Scarecrow’s  hand  ! ” 

In  an  instant,  while  the  Three  Gray  Women  were 
still  scolding  each  other,  Perseus  leaped  from  behind 
the  clump  of  bushes,  and  made  himself  master  of  the 
prize.  The  marvellous  eye,  as  he  held  it  in  his  hand, 
shone  very  brightly,  and  seemed  to  look  up  into  his 
face  with  a knowing  air,  and  an  expression  as  if  it 
would  have  winked,  had  it  been  provided  with  a pair 
of  eyelids  for  that  purpose.  But  the  Gray  Women 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened  ; and,  each  sup- 
posing that  one  of  her  sisters  was  in  possession  of  the 
eye,  they  began  their  quarrel  anew.  At  last,  as  Per- 
seus did  not  wish  to  put  these  respectable  dames  to 
greater  inconvenience  than  was  really  necessary,  he 
thought  it  right  to  explain  the  matter. 

44  My  good  ladies,”  said  he,  44  pray  do  not  be  angry 
with  one  another.  If  anybody  is  in  fault,  it  is  myself ; 
for  I have  the  honor  to  hold  your  very  brilliant  and 
excellent  eye  in  my  own  hand ! ” 

44 You!  you  have  our  eye!  And  who  are  you?” 
screamed  the  Three  Gray  W omen,  all  in  a breath ; for 
they  were  terribly  frightened,  of  course,  at  hearing  a 
strange  voice,  and  discovering  that  their  eyesight  had 
got  into  the  hands  of  they  could  not  guess  whom. 
44 Oh,  what  shall  we  do,  sisters?  what  shall  we  do?  We 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


35 


are  all  in  the  dark ! Give  us  our  eye  ! Give  us  our 
one,  precious,  solitary  eye!  You  have  two  of  your 
own  ! Give  us  our  eye  ! ” 

44  Tell  them,”  whispered  Quicksilver  to  Perseus, 
44  that  they  shall  have  back  the  eye  as  soon  as  they 
direct  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs  who  have  the 
flying  slippers,  the  magic  wallet,  and  the  helmet  of 
darkness.” 

44  My  dear,  good,  admirable  old  ladies,”  said  Per- 
seus, addressing  the  Gray  Women,  44  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  putting  yourselves  into  such  a fright.  I am 
by  no  means  a bad  young  man.  You  shall  have  back 
your  eye,  safe  and  sound,  and  as  bright  as  ever,  the 
moment  you  tell  me  where  to  find  the  Nymphs.” 

44  The  Nymphs ! Goodness  me ! sisters,  what  Nymphs 
does  he  mean  ? ” screamed  Scarecrow.  44  There  are  a 
great  many  Nymphs,  people  say ; some  that  go  a hunt- 
ing in  the  woods,  and  some  that  live  inside  of  trees, 
and  some  that  have  a comfortable  home  in  fountains 
of  water.  We  know  nothing  at  all  about  them.  We 
are  three  unfortunate  old  souls,  that  go  wandering 
about  in  the  dusk,  and  never  had  but  one  eye  amongst 
us,  and  that  one  you  have  stolen  away.  Oh,  give  it 
back,  good  stranger ! — whoever  you  are,  give  it  back ! ” 

All  this  while  the  Three  Gray  W omen  were  grop- 
ing with  their  outstretched  hands,  and  trying  their 
utmost  to  get  hold  of  Perseus.  But  he  took  good  care 
to  keep  out  of  their  reach. 

44  My  respectable  dames,”  said  he,  — for  his  mother 
had  taught  him  always  to  use  the  greatest  civility,  — - 
*4  I hold  your  eye  fast  in  my  hand,  and  shall  keep  it 
safely  for  you,  until  you  please  to  tell  me  where  to 
find  these  Nymphs.  The  Nymphs,  I mean,  who  keep 
the  enchanted  wallet,  the  flying  slippers,  and  the  what 
is  it  ? — the  helmet  of  invisibility.” 


86 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD . 


“ Mercy  on  us,  sisters ! what  is  the  young  man  talk- 
ing about  ? ” exclaimed  Scarecrow,  Nightmare,  and 
Shake  joint,  one  to  another,  with  great  appearance  of 
astonishment.  “ A pair  of  flying  slippers,  quoth  he  ! 
His  heels  would  quickly  fly  higher  than  his  head,  if 
he  were  silly  enough  to  put  them  on.  And  a helmet 
of  invisibility ! How  could  a helmet  make  him  in- 
visible, unless  it  were  big  enough  for  him  to  hide  un- 
der it  ? And  an  enchanted  wallet ! What  sort  of  a 
contrivance  may  that  be,  I wonder?  No,  no,  good 
stranger  ! we  can  tell  you  nothing  of  these  marvellous 
things.  You  have  two  eyes  of  your  own,  and  we 
have  but  a single  one  amongst  us  three.  You  can 
find  out  such  wonders  better  than  three  blind  old  crea- 
tures, like  us.” 

Perseus,  hearing  them  talk  in  this  way,  began  really 
to  think  that  the  Gray  Women  knew  nothing  of  the 
matter ; and,  as  it  grieved  him  to  have  put  them  to  so 
much  trouble,  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  restoring 
their  eye  and  asking  pardon  for  his  rudeness  in  snatch- 
ing it  away.  But  Quicksilver  caught  his  hand. 

“ Don’t  let  them  make  a fool  of  you  ! ” said  he. 
44  These  Three  Gray  W omen  are  the  only  persons  in 
the  world  that  can  tell  you  where  to  find  the  Nymphs ; 
and,  unless  you  get  that  information,  you  will  never 
succeed  in  cutting  off  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks.  Keep  fast  hold  of  the  eye,  and  all  will 
go  well.” 

As  it  turned  out,  Quicksilver  was  in  the  right. 
There  are  but  few  things  that  people  prize  so  much  as 
they  do  their  eyesight ; and  the  Gray  W omen  valued 
their  single  eye  as  highly  as  if  it  had  been  half  a 
dozen,  which  was  the  number  they  ought  to  have  had. 
Finding  that  there  was  no  other  way  of  recovering  it. 


THE  GORGON' S HEAD . 


37 


they  at  last  told  Perseus  what  he  wanted  to  know.  No 
sooner  had  they  done  so,  than  he  immediately,  and 
with  the  utmost  respect,  clapped  the  eye  into  the  va- 
cant socket  in  one  of  their  foreheads,  thanked  them 
for  their  kindness,  and  bade  them  farewell.  Before 
the  young  man  was  out  of  hearing,  however,  they  had 
got  into  a new  dispute,  because  he  happened  to  have 
given  the  eye  to  Scarecrow,  who  had  already  taken  her 
turn  of  it  when  their  trouble  with  Perseus  commenced. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that  the  Three  Gray 
Women  were  very  much  in  the  habit  of  disturbing 
their  mutual  harmony  by  bickerings  of  this  sort; 
which  was  the  more  pity,  as  they  could  not  conven- 
iently do  without  one  another,  and  were  evidently  in- 
tended to  be  inseparable  companions.  As  a general 
rule,  I would  advise  all  people,  whether  sisters  or 
brothers,  old  or  young,  who  chance  to  have*  but  one 
eye  amongst  them,  to  cultivate  forbearance,  and  not 
all  insist  upon  peeping  through  it  at  once. 

Quicksilver  and  ^Perseus,  in  the  mean  time,  were 
making  the  best  of  their  way  in  quest  of  the  Nymphs. 
The  old  dames  had  given  them  such  particular  direc- 
tions, that  they  were  not  long  in  finding  them  out. 
They  proved  to  be  very  different  persons  from  Night- 
mare, Shakejoint,  and  Scarecrow ; for,  instead  of  be- 
ing old,  they  were  young  and  beautiful ; and  instead 
of  one  eye  amongst  the  sisterhood,  each  Nymph  had 
two  exceedingly  bright  eyes  of  her  own,  with  which 
she  looked  very  kindly  at  Perseus.  They  seemed  to 
be  acquainted  with  Quicksilver;  and,  when  he  tcld 
them  the  adventure  which  Perseus  had  undertaken, 
they  made  no  difficulty  about  giving  him  the  valuable 
articles  that  were  in  their  custody.  In  the  first  place, 
they  brought  out  what  appeared  to  be  a small  purse, 


38 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD . 


made  of  deer  skin,  and  curiously  embroidered,  and  bade 
him  be  sure  and  keep  it  safe.  This  was  the  magic 
wallet.  The  Nymphs  next  produced  a pair  of  shoes, 
or  slippers,  or  sandals,  with  a nice  little  pair  of  wings 
at  the  heel  of  each. 

“ Put  them  on,  Perseus,”  said  Quicksilver.  “You 
will  find  yourself  as  light-heeled  as  you  can  desire  for 
the  remainder  of  our  journey.” 

So  Perseus  proceeded  to  put  one  of  the  slippers 
on,  while  he  laid  the  other  on  the  ground  by  his  side. 
Unexpectedly,  however,  this  other  slipper  spread  its 
wings,  fluttered  up  off  the  ground,  and  would  proba- 
bly have  flown  away,  if  Quicksilver  had  not  made  a 
leap,  and  luckily  caught  it  in  the  air. 

“ Be  more  careful,”  said  he,  as  he  gave  it  back  to 
Perseus.  “It  would  frighten  the  birds,  up  aloft,  if 
they  should  see  a flying  slipper  amongst  them.” 

When  Perseus  had  got  on  both  of  these  wonderful 
slippers,  he  was  altogether  too  buoyant  to  tread  on 
earth.  Making  a step  or  two,  lo  and  behold  ! upward 
he  popped  into  the  air,  high  above  Ihe  heads  of  Quick- 
silver and  the  Nymphs,  and  found  it  very  difficult  to 
clamber  down  again.  Winged  slippers,  and  all  such 
high-flying  contrivances,  are  seldom  quite  easy  to 
manage  until  one  grows  a little  accustomed  to  them. 
Quicksilver  laughed  at  his  companion’s  involuntary 
activity,  and  told  him  that  he  must  not  be  in  so  des- 
perate a hurry,  but  must  wait  for  the  invisible  helmet. 

The  good-natured  Nymphs  had  the  helmet,  with  its 
dark  tuft  of  waving  plumes,  all  in  readiness  to  put 
upon  his  head.  And  now  there  happened  about  as 
wonderful  an  incident  as  anything  that  I have  yet 
told  you.  The  instant  before  the  helmet  was  put  on, 
there  stood  Perseus,  a beautiful  young  man,  with 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAR 


39 


golden  ringlets  and  rosy  cheeks,  the  crooked  sword  by 
his  side,  and  the  brightly  polished  shield  upon  his 
arm,  — a figure  that  seemed  all  made  up  of  courage, 
sprightliness,  and  glorious  light.  But  when  the  hel- 
met had  descended  over  his  white  brow,  there  was  no 
longer  any  Perseus  to  be  seen  ! Nothing  but  empty 
air ! Even  the  helmet,  that  covered  him  with  its  in- 
visibility, had  vanished ! 

“ Where  are  you,  Perseus?  ” asked  Quicksilver. 

“ Why,  here,  to  be  sure  ! ” answered  Perseus,  very 
quietly,  although  his  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  the 
transparent  atmosphere.  “Just  where  I was  a mo- 
ment ago.  Don’t  you  see  me  ? ” 

“ No,  indeed  ! ” answered  his  friend.  “ You  are 
hidden  under  the  helmet.  But,  if  I cannot  see  you, 
neither  can  the  Gorgons.  Follow  me,  therefore,  and 
we  will  try  your  dexterity  in  using  the  winged  slip- 
pers.” 

With  these  words,  Quicksilver’s  cap  spread  its 
wings,  as  if  his  head  were  about  to  fly  away  from  his 
shoulders  ; but  his  whole  figure  rose  lightly  into  the 
air,  and  Perseus  followed.  By  the  time  they  had  as- 
cended a few  hundred  feet,  the  young  man  began  to 
feel  what  a delightful  thing  it  was  to  leave  the  dull 
earth  so  far  beneath  him,  and  to  be  able  to  flit  about 
like  a bird. 

It  was  now  deep  night.  Perseus  looked  upward, 
and  saw  the  round,  bright,  silvery  moon,  and  thought 
that  he  should  desire  nothing  better  than  to  soar  up 
thither,  and  spend  his  life  there.  Then  he  looked 
downward  again,  and  saw  the  earth,  with  its  seas  and 
lakes,  and  the  silver  courses  of  its  rivers,  and  its 
snowy  mountain-peaks,  and  the  breadth  of  its  fields, 
and  the  dark  cluster  of  its  woods,  and  its  cities  of 


40 


THE  GORGON 9 S HEAD. 


white  marble  ; and,  with  the  moonshine  sleeping  over 
the  whole  scene,  it  was  as  beautiful  as  the  moon  or 
any  star  could  be.  And,  among  other  objects,  he  saw 
the  island  of  Seriphus,  where  his  dear  mother  was. 
Sometimes  he  and  Quicksilver  approached  a cloud, 
that,  at  a distance,  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  fleecy 
silver;  although,  when  they  plunged  into  it,  they 
found  themselves  chilled  and  moistened  with  gray 
mist.  So  swift  was  their  flight,  however,  that,  in  an 
instant,  they  emerged  from  the  cloud  into  the  moon- 
light again.  Once,  a high-soaring  eagle  flew  right 
against  the  invisible  Perseus.  The  bravest  sights  were 
the  meteors,  that  gleamed  suddenly  out,  as  if  a bonfire 
had  been  kindled  in  the  sky,  and  made  the  moonshine 
pale  for  as  much  as  a hundred  miles  around  them. 

As  the  two  companions  flew  onward,  Perseus  fancied 
that  he  could  hear  the  rustle  of  a garment  close  by  his 
side  ; and  it  was  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  one  where 
he  beheld  Quicksilver,  yet  only  Quicksilver  was  visible. 

“ Whose  garment  is  this,”  inquired  Perseus,  “ that 
keeps  rustling  close  beside  me  in  the  breeze  ? ” 

“ Oh,  it  is  my  sister’s ! ” answered  Quicksilver. 
“ She  is  coming  along  with  us,  as  I told  you  she 
would.  We  could  do  nothing  without  the  help  of  my 
sister.  You  have  no  idea  how  wise  she  is.  She  ha* 
such  eyes,  too ! Why,  she  can  see  you,  at  this  mo 
ment,  just  as  distinctly  as  if  you  were  not  invisible ; 
and  I ’ll  venture  to  say,  she  will  be  the  first  to  dis- 
cover the  Gorgons.” 

f By  this  time,  in  their  swift  voyage  through  the  air, 
they  had  come  within  sight  of  the  great  ocean,  and 
were  soon  flying  over  it.  Par  beneath  them,  the 
waves  tossed  themselves  tumultuously  in  mid-sea,  or 
rolled  a white  surf-line  upon  the  long  beaches,  or 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD. 


41 


foamed  against  the  rocky  cliffs,  with  a roar  that  waa 
thunderous,  in  the  lower  world ; although  it  became  a 
gentle  murmur,  like  the  voice  of  a baby  half  asleep, 
before  it  reached  the  ears  of  Perseus.  Just  then  a 
voice  spoke  in  the  air  close  by  him.  It  seemed  to  be 
a woman’s  voice,  and  was  melodious,  though  not  ex- 
actly what  might  be  called  sweet,  but  grave  and  mild. 

“ Perseus,”  said  the  voice,  “ there  are  the  Gorgons.” 

“ Where  ? ” exclaimed  Perseus.  “ I cannot  see 
them.” 

“ On  the  shore  of  that  island  beneath  you,”  replied 
the  voice.  “ A pebble,  dropped  from  your  hand,  would 
strike  in  the  midst  of  them.” 

“ I told  you  she  would  be  the  first  to  discover  them,” 
said  Quicksilver  to  Perseus.  “ And  there  they  are  ! ” 

Straight  downward,  two  or  three  thousand  feet  be- 
low him,  Perseus  perceived  a small  island,  with  the  sea 
breaking  into  white  foam  all  around  its  rocky  shore, 
except  on  one  side,  where  there  was  a beach  of  snowy 
sand.  He  descended  towards  it,  and,  looking  earnestly 
at  a cluster  or  heap  of  brightness,  at  the  foot  of  a pre- 
cipice of  black  rocks,  behold,  there  were  the  terrible 
Gorgons  ! They  lay  fast  asleep,  soothed  by  the  thun- 
der of  the  sea ; for  it  required  a tumult  that  would 
have  deafened  everybody  else  to  lull  such  fierce  crea- 
tures into  slumber.  The  moonlight  glistened  on  their 
steely  scales,  and  on  their  golden  wings,  which  drooped 
idly  over  the  sand.  Their  brazen  claws,  horrible  to 
look  at,  were  thrust  out,  and  clutched  the  wave-beaten 
fragments  of  rock,  while  the  sleeping  Gorgons  dreamed 
of  tearing  some  poor  mortal  all  to  pieces.  The  snakes 
that  served  them  instead  of  hair  seemed  likewise  to  be 
asleep;  although,  now  and  then,  one  would  writhe, 
and  lift  its  head,  and  thrust  out  its  forked  tongue, 


42 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


emitting  a drowsy  hiss,  and  then  let  itself  subside 

among  its  sister  snakes. 

The  Gorgons  were  more  like  an  awful,  gigantic  kind 
of  insect, — immense,  golden-winged  beetles,  or  dragon- 
flies, or  things  of  that  sort,  — at  once  ugly  and  beau- 
tiful, — than  like  anything  else  ; only  that  they  were 
a thousand  and  a million  times  as  big.  And,  with  all 
this,  there  was  something  partly  human  about  them, 
too.  Luckily  for  Perseus,  their  faces  were  completely 
hidden  from  him  by  the  posture  in  which  they  lay  ; 
for,  had  he  but  looked  one  instant  at  them,  he  would 
have  fallen  heavily  out  of  the  air,  an  image  of  sense- 
less stone. 

44  Now,”  whispered  Quicksilver,  as  he  hovered  by  the 
side  of  Perseus,  — “ now  is  your  time  to  do  the  deed  ! 
Be  quick ; for,  if  one  of  the  Gorgons  should  awake, 
you  are  too  late ! ” 

44  Which  shall  I strike  at  ? ” asked  Perseus,  draw- 
ing his  sword  and  descending  a little  lower.  44  They 
all  three  look  alike.  All  three  have  snaky  locks. 
Which  of  the  three  is  Medusa?  ” 

It  must  be  understood  that  Medusa  was  the  only 
one  of  these  dragon-monsters  whose  head  Perseus  could 
possibly  cut  off.  As  for  the  other  two,  let  him  have 
the  sharpest  sword  that  ever  was  forged,  and  he  might 
have  hacked  away  by  the  hour  together,  without  doing 
them  the  least  harm. 

44  Be  cautious,”  said  the  calm  voice  which  had  before 
spoken  to  him.  44  One  of  the  Gorgons  is  stirring  in 
her  sleep,  and  is  just  about  to  turn  over.  That  is 
Medusa.  Do  not  look  at  her  ! The  sight  would  turn 
you  to  stone  ! Look  at  the  reflection  of  her  face  and 
figure  in  the  bright  mirror  of  your  shield.” 

Perseus  now  understood  Quicksilver’s  motive  for  so 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


43 


earnestly  exhorting  him  to  polish  his  shield.  In  its 
surface  he  could  safely  look  at  the  reflection  of  the  Gor- 
gon’s face.  And  there  it  was, — that  terrible  counte- 
nance,— mirrored  in  the  brightness  of  the  shield,  with 
the  moonlight  falling  over  it,  and  displaying  all  its 
horror.  The  snakes,  whose  venomous  natures  could 
not  altogether  sleep,  kept  twisting  themselves  over  the 
forehead.  It  was  the  fiercest  and  most  horrible  face 
that  ever  was  seen  or  imagined,  and  yet  with  a strange, 
fearful,  and  savage  kind  of  beauty  in  it.  The  eyes 
were  closed,  and  the  Gorgon  was  still  in  a deep  slum- 
ber ; but  there  was  an  unquiet  expression  disturbing 
her  features,  as  if  the  monster  was  troubled  with  an 
ugly  dream.  She  gnashed  her  white  tusks,  and  dug 
into  the  sand  with  her  brazen  claws. 

The  snakes,  too,  seemed  to  feel  Medusa’s  dream,  and 
to  be  made  more  restless  by  it.  They  twined  them- 
selves into  tumultuous  knots,  writhed  fiercely,  and  up- 
lifted a hundred  hissing  heads,  without  opening  their 
eyes. 

“ Now,  now ! ” whispered  Quicksilver,  who  was  grow- 
ing impatient.  “ Make  a dash  at  the  monster  ! ” 

“ But  be  calm,”  said  the  grave,  melodious  voice,  at 
the  young  man’s  side.  “ Look  in  your  shield,  as  you 
fly  downward,  and  take  care  that  you  do  not  miss  your 
first  stroke.” 

Perseus  flew  cautiously  downward,  still  keeping  his 
eyes  on  Medusa’s  face,  as  reflected  in  his  shield.  The 
nearer  he  came,  the  more  terrible  did  the  snaky  visage 
and  metallic  body  of  the  monster  grow.  At  last,  when 
he  found  himself  hovering  over  her  within  arm’s  length, 
Perseus  uplifted  his  sword,  while,  at  the  same  instant, 
each  separate  snake  upon  the  Gorgon’s  head  stretched 
threateningly  upward,  and  Medusa  unclosed  her  eyes. 


44 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD . 


But  she  awoke  too  late.  The  sword  was  sharp ; the 
stroke  fell  like  a lightning-flash ; and  the  head  of  the 
wicked  Medusa  tumbled  from  her  body I 

“Admirably  done!”  cried  Quicksilver.  “Make 
haste,  and  clap  the  head  into  your  magic  wallet.” 

To  the  astonishment  of  Perseus,  the  small,  embroi- 
dered wallet,  which  he  had  hung  about  his  neck,  and 
which  had  hitherto  been  no  bigger  than  a purse,  grew 
all  at  once  large  enough  to  contain  Medusa’s  head. 
As  quick  as  thought,  he  snatched  it  up,  with  the  snakes 
still  writhing  upon  it,  and  thrust  it  in. 

“ Your  task  is  done,”  said  the  calm  voice.  “ Now 
fly ; for  the  other  Gorgons  will  do  their  utmost  to  take 
vengeance  for  Medusa’s  death.” 

It  was,  indeed,  necessary  to  take  flight ; for  Perseus 
had  not  done  the  deed  so  quietly  but  that  the  clash  of 
his  sword,  and  the  hissing  of  the  snakes,  and  the  thump 
of  Medusa’s  head  as  it  tumbled  upon  the  sea-beaten 
sand,  awoke  the  other  two  monsters.  There  they  sat, 
for  an  instant,  sleepily  rubbing  their  eyes  with  their 
brazen  fingers,  while  all  the  snakes  on  their  heads 
reared  themselves  on  end  with  surprise,  and  with  ven- 
omous malice  against  they  knew  not  what.  But  when 
the  Gorgons  saw  the  scaly  carcass  of  Medusa,  head- 
less, and  her  golden  wings  all  ruffled,  and  half  spread 
out  on  the  sand,  it  was  really  awful  to  hear  what  yells 
and  screeches  they  set  up.  And  then  the  snakes  ! 
They  sent  forth  a hundred-fold  hiss,  with  one  consent, 
and  Medusa’s  snakes  answered  them  out  of  the  magic 
wallet. 

No  sooner  were  the  Gorgons  broad  awake  than  they 
hurtled  upward  into  the  air,  brandishing  their  brass 
talons,  gnashing  their  horrible  tusks,  and  flapping  their 
huge  wings  so  wildly,  that  some  of  the  golden  feathers 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


45 


were  shaken  out,  and  floated  down  upon  the  shore.  And 
there,  perhaps,  those  very  feathers  lie  scattered,  till 
this  day.  Up  rose  the  Gorgons,  as  I tell  you,  staring 
horribly  about,  in  hopes  of  turning  somebody  to  stone. 
Had  Perseus  looked  them  in  the  face,  or  had  he  fallen 
into  their  clutches,  his  poor  mother  would  never  have 
kissed  her  boy  again  ! But  he  took  good  care  to  turn 
his  eyes  another  way ; and,  as  he  wore  the  helmet  of 
invisibility,  the  Gorgons  knew  not  in  what  direction 
to  follow  him ; nor  did  he  fail  to  make  the  best  use  of 
the  winged  slippers,  by  soaring  upward  a perpendicu- 
lar mile  or  so.  At  that  height,  when  the  screams  of 
those  abominable  creatures  sounded  faintly  beneath 
him,  he  made  a straight  course  for  the  island  of  Seri- 
phus,  in  order  to  carry  Medusa’s  head  to  King  Poly- 
dectes. 

I have  no  time  to  tell  you  of  several  marvellous 
things  that  befell  Perseus,  on  his  way  homeward  ; such 
as  his  killing  a hideous  sea-monster,  just  as  it  was  on 
the  point  of  devouring  a beautiful  maiden  ; nor  how 
he  changed  an  enormous  giant  into  a mountain  of 
stone,  merely  by  showing  him  the  head  of  the  Gorgon. 
If  you  doubt  this  latter  story,  you  may  make  a voy- 
age to  Africa,  some  day  or . other,  and  see  the  very 
mountain,  which  is  still  known  by  the  ancient  giant’s 
name. 

Finally,  our  brave  Perseus  arrived  at  the  island, 
where  he  expected  to  see  his  dear  mother.  But,  dur- 
ing his  absence,  the  wicked  king  had  treated  Danae 
so  very  ill  that  she  was  compelled  to  make  her  escape, 
and  had  taken  refuge  in  a temple,  where  some  good 
old  priests  were  extremely  kind  to  her.  These  praise- 
worthy priests,  and  the  kind-hearted  fisherman,  who 
had  first  shown  hospitality  to  Danae  and  little  Perseus 


46 


THE  GORGON'S  HEAD. 


when  he  found  them  afloat  in  the  chest,  seem  to  have 
been  the  only  persons  on  the  island  who  cared  about 
doing  right.  All  the  rest  of  the  people,  as  well  as 
King  Polydectes  himself,  were  remarkably  ill-behaved, 
and  deserved  no  better  destiny  than  that  which  was 
now  to  happen. 

Not  finding  his  mother  at  home,  Perseus  went 
straight  to  the  palace,  and  was  immediately  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  the  king.  Polydectes  was  by  nc 
means  rejoiced  to  see  him  ; for  he  had  felt  almost  cer- 
tain, in  his  own  evil  mind,  that  the  Gorgons  would 
have  torn  the  poor  young  man  to  pieces,  and  have 
eaten  him  up,  out  of  the  way.  However,  seeing  him 
safely  returned,  he  put  the  best  face  he  could  upon  the 
matter  and  asked  Perseus  how  he  had  succeeded. 

44  Have  you  performed  your  promise  ? ” inquired  he. 
u Have  you  brought  me  the  head  of  Medusa  with  the 
snaky  locks  ? If  not,  young  man,  it  will  cost  you  dear ; 
for  I must  have  a bridal  present  for  the  beautiful  Prin- 
cess Hippodamia,  and  there  is  nothing  else  that  she 
would  admire  so  much.” 

44  Yes,  please  your  Majesty,”  answered  Perseus,  in  a 
quiet  way,  as  if  it  were  no  very  wonderful  deed  for 
such  a young  man  as  he  to  perform.  44 1 have  brought 
you  the  Gorgon’s  head,  snaky  locks  and  all ! ” 

44  Indeed  ! Pray  let  me  see  it,”  quoth  King  Poly- 
dectes. 44  It  must  be  a very  curious  spectacle,  if  all 
that  travellers  tell  about  it  be  true ! ” 

44  Your  Majesty  is  in  the  right,”  replied  Perseus. 
*c  It  is  really  an  object  that  will  be  pretty  certain  to 
fix  the  regards  of  all  who  look  at  it.  And,  if  your 
Majesty  think  fit,  I would  suggest  that  a holiday  be 
proclaimed,  and  that  all  your  Majesty’s  subjects  be 
summoned  to  behold  this  wonderful  curiosity.  Few  of 


THE  GORGON’S  HEAD.  47 

them,  I imagine,  have  seen  a Gorgon’s  head  before, 
and  perhaps  never  may  again  ! ” 

The  king  well  knew  that  his  subjects  were  an  idle 
set  of  reprobates,  and  very  fond  of  sight-seeing,  as  idle 
persons  usually  are.  So  he  took  the  young  man’s  ad- 
vice, and  sent  out  heralds  and  messengers,  in  all  di- 
rections, to  blow  the  trumpet  at  the  street-corners,  and 
in  the  market-places,  and  wherever  two  roads  met,  and 
summon  everybody  to  court.  Thither,  accordingly, 
came  a great  multitude  of  good-for-nothing  vagabonds, 
all  of  whom,  out  of  pure  love  of  mischief,  would  have 
been  glad  if  Perseus  had  met  with  some  ill-hap  in  his 
encounter  with  the  Gorgons.  If  there  were  any  better 
people  in  the  island  (as  I really  hope  there  may  have 
been,  although  the  story  tells  nothing  about  any  such), 
they  stayed  quietly  at  home,  minding  their  business, 
and  taking  care  of  their  little  children.  Most  of  the 
inhabitants,  at  all  events,  ran  as  fast  as  they  could  to 
the  palace,  and  shoved,  and  pushed,  and  elbowed  one 
another,  in  their  eagerness  to  get  near  a balcony,  on 
which  Perseus  showed  himself,  holding  the  embroi- 
dered wallet  in  his  hand. 

On  a platform,  within  full  view  of  the  balcony,  sat 
the  mighty  King  Polydectes,  amid  his  evil  counsellors, 
and  with  his  flattering  courtiers  in  a semicircle  round 
about  him.  Monarch,  counsellors,  courtiers,  and  sub- 
jects, all  gazed  eagerly  towards  Perseus. 

44  Show  us  the  head  ! Show  us  the  head  ! ” shouted 
the  people ; and  there  was  a fierceness  in  their  cry  as 
if  they  would  tear  Perseus  to  pieces,  unless  he  should 
satisfy  them  with  what  he  had  to  show.  44  Show  us 
the  head  of  Medusa  with  the  snaky  locks ! ” 

A feeling  of  sorrow  and  pity  came  over  the  youthful 
Perseus. 


48 


THE  GORGON'S  HE  AH. 


“ O King  Polydectes,”  cried  he,  44  and  ye  many 
people,  I am  very  loath  to  show  you  the  Gorgon’s 
head!” 

44  Ah,  the  villain  and  coward ! ” yelled  the  people, 
more  fiercely  than  before.  66  He  is  making  game  of 
us ! He  has  no  Gorgon’s  head ! Show  us  the  head, 
if  you  have  it,  or  we  will  take  your  own  head  for  a 
football ! ” 

The  evil  counsellors  whispered  bad  advice  in  the 
king’s  ear ; the  courtiers  murmured,  with  one  consent, 
that  Perseus  had  shown  disrespect  to  their  royal  lord 
and  master ; and  the  great  King  Polydectes  himself 
waved  his  hand,  and  ordered  him,  with  the  stern,  deep 
voice  of  authority,  on  his  peril,  to  produce  the  head. 

44  Show  me  the  Gorgon’s  head,  or  I will  cut  off  your 
own ! ” 

And  Perseus  sighed. 

44  This  instant,”  repeated  Polydectes, 44  or  you  die  ! ” 

44  Behold  it,  then ! ” cried  Perseus,  in  a voice  like 
the  blast  of  a trumpet. 

And,  suddenly  holding  up  the  head,  not  an  eyelid 
had  time  to  wink  before  the  wicked  King  Polydectes, 
his  evil  counsellors,  and  all  his  fierce  subjects  were  no 
longer  anything  but  the  mere  images  of  a monarch 
and  his  people.  They  were  all  fixed,  forever,  in  the 
look  and  attitude  of  that  moment ! At  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  terrible  head  of  Medusa,  they  whitened 
into  marble ! And  Perseus  thrust  the  head  back  into 
his  wallet,  and  went  to  tell  his  dear  mother  that  she 
need  no  longer  be  afraid  of  the  wicked  King  Poly- 
dectes. 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


AFTER  THE  STORY. 

“ Was  not  that  a very  fine  story  ? ” asked  Eustace. 

“ Oh  yes,  yes ! ” cried  Cowslip,  clapping  her  hands. 
“And  those  funny  old  women,  with  only  one  eye 
amongst  them ! I never  heard  of  anything  so 
strange.” 

“ As  to  their  one  tooth,  which  they  shifted  about,” 
observed  Primrose,  “ there  was  nothing  so  very  won- 
derful in  that.  I suppose  it  was  a false  tooth.  But 
think  of  your  turning  Mercury  into  Quicksilver,  and 
talking  about  his  sister ! You  are  too  ridiculous  ! ” 

“ And  was  she  not  his  sister  ? ” asked  Eustace 
Bright.  “ If  I had  thought  of  it  sooner,  I would 
have  described  her  as  a maiden  lady,  who  kept  a pet 
owl ! ” 

“Well,  at  any  rate,”  said  Primrose,  “your  story 
seems  to  have  driven  away  the  mist.” 

And,  indeed,  while  the  tale  was  going  forward,  the 
vapors  had  been  quite  exhaled  from  the  landscape.  A 
scene  was  now  disclosed  which  the  spectators  might 
almost  fancy  as  having  been  created  since  they  had 
last  looked  in  the  direction  where  it  lay.  About  half 
a mile  distant,  in  the  lap  of  the  valley,  now  appeared 
a beautiful  lake,  which  reflected  a perfect  image  of  its 
own  wooded  banks,  and  of  the  summits  of  the  more 
distant  hills.  It  gleamed  in  glassy  tranquillity,  with- 
out the  trace  of  a winged  breeze  on  any  part  of  its 


50 


TANGLEWOOD  PORCH. 


bosom.  Beyond  its  farther  shore  was  Monument 
Mountain,  in  a recumbent  position,  stretching  almost 
across  the  valley.  Eustace  Bright  compared  it  to  a 
huge,  headless  sphinx,  wrapped  in  a Persian  shawl ; 
and,  indeed,  so  rich  and  diversified  was  the  autumnal 
foliage  of  its  woods,  that  the  simile  of  the  shawl  was 
by  no  means  too  high-colored  for  the  reality.  In  the 
lower  ground,  between  Tanglewood  and  the  lake,  the 
clumps  of  trees  and  borders  of  woodland  were  chiefly 
golden-leaved  or  dusky  brown,  as  having  suffered  more 
from  frost  than  the  foliage  on  the  hill-sides. 

Over  all  this  scene  there  was  a genial  sunshine,  in- 
termingled with  a slight  haze,  which  made  it  unspeak- 
ably soft  and  tender.  Oh,  what  a day  of  Indian  sum- 
mer was  it  going  to  be ! The  children  snatched  their 
baskets,  and  set  forth,  with  hop,  skip,  and  jump,  and 
all  sorts  of  frisks  and  gambols ; while  Cousin  Eustace 
proved  his  fitness  to  preside  over  the  party,  by  outdo- 
ing all  their  antics,  and  performing  several  new  capers, 
which  none  of  them  could  ever  hope  to  imitate.  Be- 
hind went  a good  old  dog,  whose  name  was  Ben.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  respectable  and  kind-hearted  of 
quadrupeds,  and  probably  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  not  to 
trust  the  children  away  from  their  parents  without 
some  better  guardian  than  this  feather-brained  Eus- 
tace Bright. 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


SHADOW  BROOK. 

INTRODUCTORY  TO  u THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.” 

At  noon,  our  juvenile  party  assembled  in  a dell, 
through  the  depths  of  which  ran  a little  brook.  The 
dell  was  narrow,  and  its  steep  sides,  from  the  margin 
of  the  stream  upward,  were  thickly  set  with  trees, 
chiefly  walnuts  and  chestnuts,  among  which  grew  a 
few  oaks  and  maples.  In  the  summer  time,  the  shade 
of  so  many  clustering  branches,  meeting  and  inter- 
mingling across  the  rivulet,  was  deep  enough  to  pro- 
duce a noontide  twilight.  Hence  came  the  name  of 
Shadow  Brook.  But  now,  ever  since  autumn  had 
crept  into  this  secluded  place,  all  the  dark  verdure 
was  changed  to  gold,  so  that  it  really  kindled  up  the 
dell,  instead  of  shading  it.  The  bright  yellow  leaves, 
even  had  it  been  a cloudy  day,  would  have  seemed  to 
keep  the  sunlight  among  them ; and  enough  of  them 
had  fallen  to  strew  all  the  bed  and  margin  of  the 
brook  with  sunlight,  too.  Thus  the  shady  nook,  where 
summer  had  cooled  herself,  was  now  the  sunniest  spot 
anywhere  to  be  found. 

The  little  brook  ran  along  over  its  pathway  of  gold, 
here  pausing  to  form  a pool,  in  which  minnows  were 
darting  to  and  fro : and  then  it  hurried  onward  at  a 


52 


SHADOW  BROOK 


swifter  pace,  as  if  in  haste  to  reach  the  lake.;  and,  for- 
getting to  look  whither  it  went,  it  tumbled  over  the 
root  of  a tree,  which  stretched  quite  across  its  current. 
You  would  have  laughed  to  hear  how  noisily  it  bab- 
bled about  this  accident.  And  even  after  it  had  run 
onward,  the. brook  still  kept  talking  to  itself,  as  if  it 
were  in  a maze.  It  was  wonder-smitten,  I suppose,  at 
finding  its  dark  dell  so  illuminated,  and  at  hearing 
the  prattle  and  merriment  of  so  many  children.  So 
it  stole  away  as  quickly  as  it  could,  and  hid  itself  in 
the  lake. 

In  the  dell  of  Shadow  Brook,  Eustace  Bright  and 
his  little  friends  had  eaten  their  dinner.  They  had 
brought  plenty  of  good  things  from  Tanglewood,  in 
their  baskets,  and  had  spread  them  out  on  the  stumps 
of  trees,  and  on  mossy  trunks,  and  had  feasted  mer- 
rily, and  made  a very  nice  dinner  indeed.  After  it 
was  over,  nobody  felt  like  stirring. 

“We  will  rest  ourselves  here,”  said  several  of  the 
children,  46  while  Cousin  Eustace  tells  us  another  of 
his  pretty  stories.” 

Cousin  Eustace  had  a good  right  to  be  tired,  as  well 
as  the  children,  for  he  had  performed  great  feats  on 
that  memorable  forenoon.  Dandelion,  Clover,  Cow- 
slip, and  Buttercup  were  almost  persuaded  that  he  had 
winged  slippers,  like  those  which  the  Nymphs  gave 
Perseus ; so  often  had  the  student  shown  himself  at 
the  tiptop  of  a nut-tree,  when  only  a moment  before 
he  had  been  standing  on  the  ground.  And  then,  what 
showers  of  walnuts  had  he  sent  rattling  down  upon 
their  heads,  for  their  busy  little  hands  to  gather  into 
the  baskets ! In  short,  he  had  been  as  active  as  a 
squirrel  or  a monkey,  and  now,  flinging  himself  down 
on  the  yellow  leaves,  seemed  inclined  to  take  a little 
rest. 


SHADOW  BROOR. 


53 


But  children  have  no  mercy  nor  consideration  for 
anybody’s  weariness ; and  if  you  had  but  a single 
breath  left,  they  would  ask  you  to  spend  it  in  telling 
them  a story. 

46  Cousin  Eustace,”  said  Cowslip,  44  that  was  a very 
nice  story  of  the  Gorgon’s  Head.  Do  you  think  you 
could  tell  us  another  as  good  ? ” 

44  Yes,  child,”  said  Eustace,  pulling  the  brim  of  his 
cap  over  his  eyes,  as  if  preparing  for  a nap.  44 1 can 
tell  you  a dozen,  as  good  or  better,  if  I choose.” 

44  O Primrose  and  Periwinkle,  do  you  hear  what  he 
says  ? ” cried  Cowslip,  dancing  with  delight.  44  Cousin 
Eustace  is  going  to  tell  us  a dozen  better  stories  than 
that  about  the  Gorgon’s  Head  ! ” 

44 1 did  not  promise  you  even  one,  you  foolish  little 
Cowslip ! ” said  Eustace,  half  pettishly.  44  However,  I 
suppose  you  must  have  it.  This  is  the  consequence  of 
having  earned  a reputation  ! I wish  I were  a great 
deal  duller  than  I am,  or  that  I had  never  shown  half 
the  bright  qualities  with  which  nature  has  endowed 
me ; and  then  I might  have  my  nap  out,  in  peace  and 
comfort ! ” 

But  Cousin  Eustace,  as  I think  I have  hinted  be- 
fore, was  as  fond  of  telling  his  stories  as  the  children 
of  hearing  them.  His  mind  was  in  a free  and  happy 
state,  and  took  delight  in  its  own  activity,  and  scarcely 
required  any  external  impulse  to  set  it  at  work. 

How  different  is  this  spontaneous  play  of  the  intel- 
lect from  the  trained  diligence  of  maturer  years,  when 
toil  has  perhaps  grown  easy  by  long  habit,  and  the 
day’s  work  may  have  become  essential  to  the  day’s 
comfort,  although  the  rest  of  the  matter  has  bubbled 
away ! This  remark,  however,  is  not  meant  for  the 
children  to  hear. 


54 


SHADOW  BROOK. 


Without  further  solicitation,  Eustace  Bright  pro* 
ceeded  to  tell  the  following  really  splendid  story.  It 
had  come  into  his  mind  as  he  lay  looking  upward  into 
the  depths  of  a tree,  and  observing  how  the  touch  of 
Autumn  had  transmuted  every  one  of  its  green  leaves 
into  what  resembled  the  purest  gold.  And  this 
change,  which  we  have  all  of  us  witnessed,  is  as  won- 
derful as  anything  that  Eustace  told  about  in  the  story 
of  Midas. 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


Once  upon  a time,  there  lived  a very  rich  man,  and 
a king  besides,  whose  name  was  Midas ; and  he  had 
a little  daughter,  whom  nobody  but  myself  ever  heard 
of,  and  whose  name  I either  never  knew,  or  have  en- 
tirely forgotten.  So,  because  I love  odd  names  for 
little  girls,  I choose  to  call  her  Marygold. 

This  King  Midas  was  fonder  of  gold  than  of  any- 
thing else  in  the  world.  He  valued  his  royal  crown 
chiefly  because  it  was  composed  of  that  precious  metal. 
If  he  loved  anything  better,  or  half  so  well,  it  was  the 
one  little  maiden  who  played  so  merrily  around  her 
father’s  footstool.  But  the  more  Midas  loved  his 
daughter,  the  more  did  he  desire  and  seek  for  wealth. 
He  thought,  foolish  man ! that  the  best  thing  he  could 
possibly  do  for  this  dear  child  would  be  to  bequeath 
her  the  immensest  pile  of  yellow,  glistening  coin,  that 
had  ever  been  heaped  together  since  the  world  was 
made.  Thus,  he  gave  all  his  thoughts  and  all  his  time 
to  this  one  purpose.  If  ever  he  happened  to  gaze  for 
an  instant  at  the  gold-tinted  clouds  of  sunset,  he  wished 
that  they  were  real  gold,  and  that  they  could  be 
squeezed  safely  into  his  strong  box.  When  little 
Marygold  ran  to  meet  him,  with  a bunch  of  buttercups 
and  dandelions,  he  used  to  say,  “ Poll,  poh,  child ! If 
these  flowers  were  as  golden  as  they  look,  they  would 
be  worth  the  plucking ! ” 

And  yet,  in  his  earlier  days,  before  he  was  so  en- 
tirely possessed  of  this  insane  desire  for  riches,  King 


56 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH . 


Midas  had  shown  a great  taste  for  flowers.  He  had 
planted  a garden,  in  which  grew  the  biggest  and  beau- 
tifullest  and  sweetest  roses  that  any  mortal  ever  saw 
or  smelt.  These  roses  were  still  growing  in  the  gar- 
den, as  large,  as  lovely,  and  as  fragrant,  as  when 
Midas  used  to  pass  whole  hours  in  gazing  at  them, 
and  inhaling  their  perfume.  But  now,  if  he  looked 
at  them  at  all,  it  was  only  to  calculate  how  much  the 
garden  would  be  worth  if  each  of  the  innumerable  rose- 
petals  were  a thin  plate  of  gold.  And  though  he  once 
was  fond  of  music  (in  spite  of  an  idle  story  about  his 
ears,  which  were  said  to  resemble  those  of  an  ass),  the 
only  music  for  poor  Midas,  now,  was  the  chink  of  one 
coin  against  another. 

At  length  (as  people  always  grow  more  and  more 
foolish,  unless  they  take  care  to  grow  wiser  and  wiser), 
Midas  had  got  to  be  so  exceedingly  unreasonable,  that 
he  could  scarcely  bear  to  see  or  touch  any  object  that 
was  not  gold.  He  made  it  his  custom,  therefore,  to 
pass  a large  portion  of  every  day  in  a dark  and  dreary 
apartment,  under  ground,  at  the  basement  of  his  pal- 
ace. It  was  here  that  he  kept  his  wealth.  To  this 
dismal  hole  — for  it  was  little  better  than  a dun- 
geon — Midas  betook  himself,  whenever  he  wanted 
to  be  particularly  happy.  Here,  after  carefully  lock- 
ing the  door,  he  would  take  a bag  of  gold  coin,  or  a 
gold  cup  as  big  as  a washbowl,  or  a heavy  golden 
bar,  or  a peck-measure  of  gold-dust,  and  bring  them 
from  the  obscure  corners  of  the  room  into  the  one 
bright  and  narrow  sunbeam  that  fell  from  the  dun- 
geon-like window.  He  valued  the  sunbeam  for  no 
other  reason  but  that  his  treasure  would  not  shine 
without  its  help.  And  then  would  he  reckon  over  the 
coins  in  the  bag ; toss  up  the  bar,  and  catch  it  as  it 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


57 


came  down ; sift  the  gold-dust  through  his  fingers ; 
look  at  the  funny  image  of  his  own  face,  as  reflected 
in  the  burnished  circumference  of  the  cup  ; and  whis- 
per to  himself,  u O Midas,  rich  King  Midas,  what  a 
happy  man  art  thou  ! ” But  it  was  laughable  to  see 
how  the  image  of  his  face  kept  grinning  at  him,  out 
of  the  polished  surface  of  the  cup.  It  seemed  to  be 
aware  of  his  foolish  behavior,  and  to  have  a naughty 
inclination  to  make  fun  of  him. 

Midas  called  himself  a happy  man,  but  felt  that  he 
was  not  yet  quite  so  happy  as  he  might  be.  The  very 
tiptop  of  enjoyment  would  never  be  reached,  unless 
the  whole  world  were  to  become  his  treasure-room,  and 
be  filled  with  yellow  metal  which  should  be  all  his 
own. 

Now,  I need  hardly  remind  such  wise  little  people 
as  you  are,  that  in  the  old,  old  times,  when  King  Mi- 
das was  alive,  a great  many  things  came  to  pass, 
which  we  should  consider  wonderful  if  they  were  to 
happen  in  our  own  day  and  country.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  a great  many  things  take  place  nowadays, 
which  seem  not  only  wonderful  to  us,  but  at  which  the 
people  of  old  times  would  have  stared  their  eyes  out. 
On  the  whole,  I regard  our  own  times  as  the  strangest 
of  the  two  ; but,  however  that  may  be,  I must  go  on 
with  my  story. 

Midas  was  enjoying  himself  in  his  treasure-room, 
one  day,  as  usual,  when  he  perceived  a shadow  fall 
over  the  heaps  of  gold ; and,  looking  suddenly  up, 
what  should  he  behold  but  the  figure  of  a stranger, 
standing  in  the  bright  and  narrow  sunbeam  ! It 
was  a young  man,  with  a cheerful  and  ruddy  face. 
Whether  it  was  that  the  imagination  of  King  Midas 
threw  a yellow  tinge  over  everything,  or  whatever  the 


58 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH . 


cause  might  be,  he  could  not  help  fancying  that  the 
smile  with  which  the  stranger  regarded  him  had  a 
kind  of  golden  radiance  in  it.  Certainly,  although 
his  figure  intercepted  the  sunshine,  there  was  now  a 
brighter  gleam  upon  all  the  piled-up  treasures  than  be- 
fore. Even  the  remotest  corners  had  their  share  of 
it,  and  were  lighted  up,  wdien  the  stranger  smiled,  as 
with  tips  of  flame  and  sparkles  of  fire. 

As  Midas  knew  that  he  had  carefully  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock,  and  that  no  mortal  strength  could 
possibly  break  into  his  treasure-room,  he,  of  course, 
concluded  that  his  visitor  must  be  something  more 
than  mortal.  > It  is  no  matter  about  telling  you  who 
he  was.  In  those  days,  when  the  earth  was  com- 
paratively a new  affair,  it  was  supposed  to  be  often 
the  resort  of  beings  endowed  with  supernatural  power, 
and  who  used  to  interest  themselves  in  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  men,  women,  and  children,  half  playfully 
and  half  seriously.  Midas  had  met  such  beings  before 
now,  and  was  not  sorry  to  meet  one  of  them  again. 
The  stranger’s  aspect,  indeed,  was  so  good-humored 
and  kindly,  if  not  beneficent,  that  it  would  have  been 
unreasonable  to  suspect  him  of  intending  any  mischief. 
It  was  far  more  probable  that  he  came  to  do  Midas  a 
favor.  And  what  could  that  favor  be,  unless  to  multi- 
ply his  heaps  of  treasure  ? 

The  stranger  gazed  about  the  room ; and  when  his 
lustrous  smile  had  glistened  upon  all  the  golden  ob- 
jects that  were  there,  he  turned  again  to  Midas. 

“ You  are  a wealthy  man,  friend  Midas  ! ” he  ob- 
served. “I  doubt  whether  any  other  four  walls,  on 
earth,  contain  so  much  gold  as  you  have  contrived  to 
pile  up  in  this  room.” 

“ I have  done  pretty  well,  — pretty  well,”  answered 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


59 


Midas,  in  a discontented  tone.  “ But,  after  all,  it  is 
but  a trifle,  when  you  consider  that  it  has  taken  me 
my  whole  life  to  get  it  together.  If  one  could  live  a 
thousand  years,  he  might  have  time  to  grow  rich ! ” 

44  What ! ” exclaimed  the  stranger.  44  Then  you  are 
not  satisfied  ? ” 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

44  And  pray  what  would  satisfy  you  ? ” asked  the 
stranger.  44  Merely  for  the  curiosity  of  the  thing,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know.” 

Midas  paused  and  meditated.  He  felt  a presenti- 
ment that  this  stranger,  with  such  a golden  lustre  in 
his  good-humored  smile,  had  come  hither  with  both 
the  power  and  the  purpose  of  gratifying  his  utmost 
wishes.  Now,  therefore,  was  the  fortunate  moment, 
when  he  had  but  to  speak,  and  obtain  whatever  possi- 
ble, or  seemingly  impossible  thing,  it  might  come  into 
his  head  to  ask.  So  he  thought,  and  thought,  and 
thought,  and  heaped  up  one  golden  mountain  upon 
another,  in  his  imagination,  without  being  able  to  im- 
agine them  big  enough.  At  last,  a bright  idea  oc- 
curred to  King  Midas.  It  seemed  really  as  bright  as 
the  glistening  metal  which  he  loved  so  much. 

Raising  his  head,  he  looked  the  lustrous  stranger  in 
the  face. 

44  Well,  Midas,”  observed  his  visitor,  44 1 see  that 
you  have  at  length  hit  upon  something  that  will  satisfy 
you.  Tell  me  your  wish.” 

44  It  is  only  this,”  replied  Midas.  44 1 am  weary  of 
collecting  my  treasures  with  so  much  trouble,  and  be- 
holding the  heap  so  diminutive,  after  I have  done  my 
best.  I wish  everything  that  I touch  to  be  changed 
to  gold ! ” 

The  stranger’s  smile  grew  so  very  broad,  that  it 


60 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH . 


seemed  to  fill  the  room  like  an  outburst  of  the  sun, 
gleaming  into  a shadowy  dell,  where  the  yellow  au- 
tumnal leaves  — for  so  looked  the  lumps  and  particles 
of  gold  — lie  strewn  in  the  glow  of  light. 

44  The  Golden  Touch  ! ” exclaimed  he.  44  You  cer- 
tainly deserve  credit,  friend  Midas,  for  striking  out  so 
brilliant  a conception.  But  are  you  quite  sure  that 
this  will  satisfy  you  ? ” 

44  How  could  it  fail?  ” said  Midas. 

44  And  will  you  never  regret  the  possession  of  it  ? ” 

44  What  could  induce  me?5’  asked  Midas.  44 1 ask 
nothing  else,  to  render  me  perfectly  happy.” 

44  Be  it  as  you  wish,  then,”  replied  the  stranger, 
waving  his  hand  in  token  of  farewell.  44  To-morrow, 
at  sunrise,  you  will  find  yourself  gifted  with  the 
Golden  Touch.” 

The  figure  of  the  stranger  then  became  exceedingly 
bright,  and  Midas  involuntarily  closed  his  eyes.  On 
opening  them  again,  he  beheld  only  one  yellow  sun- 
beam in  the  room,  and,  all  around  him,  the  glistening 
of  the  precious  metal  which  he  had  spent  his  life  in 
hoarding  up. 

Whether  Midas  slept  as  usual  that  night,  the  story 
does  not  say.  Asleep  or  awake,  however,  his  mind 
was  probably  in  the  state  of  a child’s,  to  whom  a beau- 
tiful new  plaything  has  been  promised  in  the  morning. 
At  any  rate,  day  had  hardly  peeped  over  the  hills, 
when  King  Midas  was  broad  awake,  and,  stretching 
his  arms  out  of  bed,  began  to  touch  the  objects  that 
were  within  reach.  He  was  anxious  to  prove  whether 
the  Golden  Touch  had  really  come,  according  to  the 
stranger’s  promise.  So  he  laid  his  finger  on  a chair 
by  the  bedside,  and  on  various  other  things,  but  was 
grievously  disappointed  to  perceive  that  they  remained 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


61 


of  exactly  tlie  same  substance  as  before.  Indeed,  he 
felt  very  much  afraid  that  he  had  only  dreamed  about 
the  lustrous  stranger,  or  else  that  the  latter  had  been 
making  game  of  him.  And  what  a miserable  affair 
would  it  be,  if,  after  all  his  hopes,  Midas  must  content 
himself  with  what  little  gold  he  could  scrape  together 
by  ordinary  means,  instead  of  creating  it  by  a touch ! 

All  this  while,  it  was  only  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
with  but  a streak  of  brightness  along  the  edge  of  the 
sky,  where  Midas  could  not  see  it.  He  lay  in  a very 
disconsolate  mood,  regretting  the  downfall  of  his 
hopes,  and  kept  growing  sadder  and  sadder,  until  the 
earliest  sunbeam  shone  through  the  window,  and 
gilded  the  ceiling  over  his  head.  It  seemed  to  Midas 
that  this  bright  yellow  sunbeam  was  reflected  in  rather 
a singular  way  on  the  white  covering  of  the  bed. 
Looking  more  closely,  what  was  his  astonishment  and 
delight,  when  he  found  that  this  linen  fabric  had 
been  transmuted  to  what  seemed  a woven  texture  of 
the  purest  and  brightest  gold!  The  Golden  Touch 
had  come  to  him  with  the  first  sunbeam  ! 

Midas  started  up,  in  a kind  of  joyful  frenzy,  and 
ran  about  the  room,  grasping  at  everything  that  hap- 
pened to  be  in  his  way.  He  seized  one  of  the  bed- 
posts, and  it  became  immediately  a fluted  golden 
pillar.  He  pulled  aside  a window-curtain,  in  order  to 
admit  a clear  spectacle  of  the  wonders  which  he  was 
performing ; and  the  tassel  grew  heavy  in  his  hand, 
— a mass  of  gold.  He  took  up  a book  from  the  table. 
At  his  first  touch,  it  assumed  the  appearance  of  such  a 
splendidly  bound  and  gilt-edged  volume  as  one  often 
meets  with,  nowadays ; but,  on  running  his  fingers 
through  the  leaves,  behold ! it  was  a bundle  of  thin 
golden  plates,  in  which  all  the  wisdom  of  the  book 


62 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


had  grown  illegible.  He  hurriedly  put  on  his  clothes, 
and  was  enraptured  to  see  himself  in  a magnificent 
suit  of  gold  cloth,  which  retained  its  flexibility  and 
softness,  although  it  burdened  him  a little  with  its 
weight.  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief,  which  little 
Marygold  had  hemmed  for  him.  That  was  likewise 
gold,  with  the  dear  child’s  neat  and  pretty  stitches 
running  all  along  the  border,  in  gold  thread ! 

Somehow  or  other,  this  last  transformation  did  not 
quite  please  King  Midas.  He  would  rather  that  his 
little  daughter’s  handiwork  should  have  remained  just 
the  same  as  when  she  climbed  his  knee  and  put  it  into 
his  hand. 

But  it  was  not  worth  while  to  vex  himself  about  a 
trifle.  Midas  now  took  his  spectacles  from  his  pocket, 
and  put  them  on  his  nose,  in  order  that  he  might  see 
more  distinctly  what  he  was  about.  In  those  days, 
spectacles  for  common  people  had  not  been  invented, 
but  were  already  worn  by  kings;  else,  how  could 
Midas  have  had  any  ? To  his  great  perplexity,  how- 
ever, excellent  as  the  glasses  were,  he  discovered  that 
he  could  not  possibly  see  through  them.  But  this  was 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world;  for,  on  taking 
them  off,  the  transparent  crystals  turned  out  to  be 
plates  of  yellow  metal,  and,  of  course,  were  worthless 
as  spectacles,  though  valuable  as  gold.  It  struck 
Midas  as  rather  inconvenient  that,  with  all  his  wealth, 
he  could  never  again  be  rich  enough  to  own  a pair  of 
serviceable  spectacles. 

“It  is  no  great  matter,  nevertheless,”  said  he  to 
himself,  very  philosophically.  “We  cannot  expect 
any  great  good,  without  its  being  accompanied  with 
some  small  inconvenience.  The  Golden  Touch  is 
worth  the  sacrifice  of  a pair  of  spectacles,  at  least,  if 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH . 


63 


not  of  one’s  very  eyesight.  My  own  eyes  will  serve 
for  ordinary  purposes,  and  little  Marygold  will  soon 
be  old  enough  to  read  to  me.” 

Wise  King  Midas  was  so  exalted  by  his  good  for- 
tune, that  the  palace  seemed  not  sufficiently  spacious 
to  contain  him.  He  therefore  went  down  stairs,  and 
smiled,  on  observing  that  the  balustrade  of  the  stair- 
case became  a bar  of  burnished  gold,  as  his  hand 
passed  over  it,  in  his  descent.  He  lifted  the  door- 
latch  (it  was  brass  only  a moment  ago,  but  golden 
when  his  fingers  quitted  it),  and  emerged  into  the 
garden.  Here,  as  it  happened,  he  found  a great  num- 
ber of  beautiful  roses  in  full  bloom,  and  others  in  all 
the  stages  of  lovely  bud  and  blossom.  Very  delicious 
was  their  fragrance  in  the  morning  breeze.  Their 
delicate  blush  was  one  of  the  fairest  sights  in  the 
world ; so  gentle,  so  modest,  and  so  full  of  sweet 
tranquillity,  did  these  roses  seem  to  be. 

But  Midas  knew  a way  to  make  them  far  more 
precious,  according  to  his  way  of  thinking,  than  roses 
had  ever  been  before.  So  he  took  great  pains  in 
going  from  bush  to  bush,  and  exercised  his  magic 
touch  most  indef atigably ; until  every  individual 
flower  and  bud,  and  even  the  worms  at  the  heart 
of  some  of  them,  were  changed  to  gold.  By  the 
time  this  good  work  was  completed,  King  Midas 
was  summoned  to  breakfast ; and  as  the  morning  air 
had  given  him  an  excellent  appetite,  he  made  haste 
back  to  the  palace. 

What  was  usually  a king’s  breakfast  in  the  days  of 
Midas,  I really  do  not  know,  and  cannot  stop  now  to 
investigate.  To  the  best  of  my  belief,  however,  on 
this  particular  morning,  the  breakfast  consisted  of  hot 
cakes,  some  nice  little  brook  trout,  roasted  potatoes* 


64 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


fresh  boiled  eggs,  and  coffee,  for  King  Midas  himself, 
and  a bowl  of  bread  and  milk  for  his  daughter  Mary- 
gold.  At  all  events,  this  is  a breakfast  fit  to  set  be- 
fore a king;  and,  whether  he  had  it  or  not,  King 
Midas  could  not  have  had  a better. 

Little  Marygold  had  not  yet  made  her  appearance, 
Her  father  ordered  her  to  be  called,  and,  seating  him- 
self at  table,  awaited  the  child’s  coming,  in  order  to 
begin  his  own  breakfast.  To  do  Midas  justice,  he 
really  loved  his  daughter,  and  loved  her  so  much  the 
more  this  morning,  on  account  of  the  good  fortune 
which  had  befallen  him.  It  was  not  a great  while  be- 
fore he  heard  her  coming  along  the  passageway  cry- 
ing bitterly.  This  circumstance  surprised  him,  because 
Marygold  was  one  of  the  cheerfullest  little  people 
whom  you  would  see  in  a summer’s  day,  and  hardly 
shed  a thimbleful  of  tears  in  a twelvemonth.  When 
Midas  heard  her  sobs,  he  determined  to  put  little  Ma- 
rygold into  better  spirits,  by  an  agreeable  surprise; 
so,  leaning  across  the  table,  he  touched  his  daughter’s 
bowl  (which  was  a China  one,  with  pretty  figures  all 
around  it),  and  transmuted  it  to  gleaming  gold. 

Meanwhile,  Marygold  slowly  and  disconsolately 
opened  the  door,  and  showed  herself  with  her  apron 
at  her  eyes,  still  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

“ How  now,  my  little  lady  ! ” cried  Midas.  “ Pray 
what  is  the  matter  with  you,  this  bright  morning  ? ” 

Marygold,  without  taking  the  apron  from  her  eyes, 
held  out  her  hand,  in  which  was  one  of  the  roses  which 
Midas  had  so  recently  transmuted. 

“ Beautiful ! ” exclaimed  her  father.  “ And  what 
is  there  in  this  magnificent  golden  rose  to  make  you 
cry  ? ” 

* “ Ah,  dear  father ! ” answered  the  child,  as  well  as 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


65 


her  sobs  would  let  her ; “ it  is  not  beautiful,  but  the 
ugliest  flower  that  ever  grew ! As  soon  as  I was  dressed 
I ran  into  the  garden  to  gather  some  roses  for  you ; 
because  I know  you  like  them,  ’and  like  them  the  bet- 
ter when  gathered  by  your  little  daughter.  But,  oh 
dear,  dear  me ! What  do  you  think  has  happened  ? 
Such  a misfortune  ! All  the  beautiful  roses,  that 
smelled  so  sweetly  and  had  so  many  lovely  blushes, 
are  blighted  and  spoilt ! They  are  grown  quite  yel- 
low, as  you  see  this  one,  and  have  no  longer  any  fra- 
grance ! "W  hat  can  have  been  the  matter  with  them  ? 99 

“ Poh,  my  dear  little  girl,  — pray  don’t  cry  about 
it ! ” said  Midas,  who  was  ashamed  to  confess  that  he 
himself  had  wrought  the  change  which  so  greatly  af- 
flicted her.  “ Sit  down  and  eat  your  bread  and  milk  ! 
You  will  find  it  easy  enough  to  exchange  a golden 
rose  like  that  (which  will  last  hundreds  of  years)  for 
an  ordinary  one  which  would  wither  in  a day.” 

“ I don’t  care  for  such  roses  as  this ! ” cried  Mary- 
gold,  tossing  it  contemptuously  away.  “ It  has  no 
smell,  and  the  hard  petals  prick  my  nose  ! ” 

The  child  now  sat  down  to  table,  but  was  so  occu- 
pied with  her  grief  for  the  blighted  roses  that  she  did 
not  even  notice  the  wonderful  transmutation  of  her 
China  bowl.  Perhaps  this  was  all  the  better ; for 
Marygold  was  accustomed  to  take  pleasure  in  looking 
at  the  queer  figures,  and  strange  trees  and  houses,  that 
were  painted  on  the  circumference  of  the  bowl ; and 
these  ornaments  were  now  entirely  lost  in  the  yellow 
hue  of  the  metal. 

Midas,  meanwhile,  had  poured  out  a cup  of  coffee, 
and,  as  a matter  of  course,  the  coffee-pot,  whatever 
metal  it  may  have  been  when  he  took  it  up,  was  gold 
when  he  set  it  down.  He  thought  to  himself,  that  it 


66 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


was  rather  an  extravagant  style  of  splendor,  in  a king 
of  his  simple  habits,  to  breakfast  off  a service  of  gold, 
and  began  to  be  puzzled  with  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
his  treasures  safe.  The  cupboard  and  the  kitchen 
would  no  longer  be  a secure  place  of  deposit  for  artb 
cles  so  valuable  as  golden  bowls  and  coffee-pots. 

Amid  these  thoughts,  he  lifted  a spoonful  of  coffee 
to  his  lips,  and,  sipping  it,  was  astonished  to  perceive 
that,  the  instant  his  lips  touched  the  liquid,  it  became 
molten  gold,  and,  the  next  moment,  hardened  into  a 
lump ! 

Ha  ! ” exclaimed  Midas,  rather  aghast. 

u What  is  the  matter,  father?  ” asked  little  Mary- 
gold,  gazing  at  him,  with  the  tears  still  standing  in  her 
eyes. 

“ Nothing,  child,  nothing ! ” said  Midas.  “ Eat  your 
milk,  before  it  gets  quite  cold.” 

He  took  one  of  the  nice  little  trouts  on  his  plate, 
and,  by  way  of  experiment,  touched  its  tail  with  his 
finger.  To  his  horror,  it  was  immediately  transmuted 
from  an  admirably  fried  brook-trout  into  a gold-fish, 
though  not  one  of  those  gold-fishes  which  people  often 
keep  in  glass  globes,  as  ornaments  for  the  parlor. 
No  ; but  it  was  really  a metallic  fish,  and  looked  as  if 
it  had  been  very  cunningly  made  by  the  nicest  gold- 
smith in  the  world.  ^Its  little  bones  were  now  golden 
wires ; its  fins  and  tail  were  thin  plates  of  gold  ; and 
there  were  the  marks  of  the  fork  in  it,  and  all  the  de- 
licate, frothy  appearance  of  a nicely  fried  fish,  exactly 
imitated  in  metal.  A very  pretty  piece  of  work,  as 
you  may  suppose  ; only  King  Midas,  just  at  that  mo- 
ment, would  much  rather  have  had  a real  trout  in  his 
dish  than  this  elaborate  and  valuable  imitation  of  one. 

“ I don’t  quite  see,”  thought  he  to  himself,  “ how  I 
am  to  get  any  breakfast  i ” 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH . 


67 


He  took  one  of  the  smoking-hot  cakes,  and  had 
scarcely  broken  it,  when,  to  his  cruel  mortification, 
though,  a moment  before,  it  had  been  of  the  whitest 
wheat,  it  assumed  the  yellow  hue  of  Indian  meal. 
To  say  the  truth,  if  it  had  really  been  a hot  Indian 
cake,  Midas  would  have  prized  it  a good  deal  more 
than  he  now  did,  when  its  solidity  and  increased 
weight  made  him  too  bitterly  sensible  that  it  was  gold. 
Almost  in  despair,  he  helped  himself  to  a boiled  egg, 
which  immediately  underwent  a change  similar  to 
those  of  the  trout  and  the  cake.  The  egg,  indeed, 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  one  of  those  which 
the  famous  goose,  in  the  story-book,  was  in  the  habit 
of  laying ; but  King  Midas  was  the  only  goose  that 
had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  matter. 

Well,  this  is  a quandary!”  thought  he,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  and  looking  quite  enviously  at  little 
Marygold,  who  was  now  eating  her  bread  and  milk 
with  great  satisfaction.  “ Such  a costly  breakfast  be- 
fore me,  and  nothing  that  can  be  eaten  ! ” 

Hoping  that,  by  dint  of  great  dispatch,  he  might 
avoid  what  he  now  felt  to  be  a considerable  inconven- 
ience, King  Midas  next  snatched  a hot  potato,  and  at- 
tempted to  cram  it  into  his  mouth,  and  swallow  it  in  3 
hurry.  But  the  Golden  Touch  was  too  nimble  for  him. 
He  found  his  mouth  full,  not  of  mealy  potato,  but  of 
solid  metal,  which  so  burnt  his  tongue  that  he  roared 
aloud,  and,  jumping  up  from  the  table,  began  to  dance 
and  stamp  about  the  room,  both  with  pain  and  affright. 

“ Father,  dear  father ! ” cried  little  Marygold,  who 
was  a very  affectionate  child,  “pray  what  is  the  matter? 
Have  you  burnt  your  mouth  ? ” 

“ Ah,  dear  child,”  groaned  Midas,  dolefully,  “ I 
don’t  know  what  is  to  become  of  your  poor  f ather ! ” 


G8 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


And,  truly,  my  dear  little  folks,  did  yon  ever  hear  of 
such  a pitiable  case  in  all  your  lives  ? Here  was  liter- 
ally the  richest  breakfast  that  could  be  set  before  a 
king,  and  its  very  richness  made  it  absolutely  good 
for  nothing.  The  poorest  laborer,  sitting  down  to  his 
crust  of  bread  and  cup  of  water,  was  far  better  off 
t ban  King  Midas,  whose  delicate  food  was  really  worth 
its  weight  in  gold.  And  what  was  to  be  done  ? Al- 
ready, at  breakfast,  Midas  was  excessively  hungry. 
Would  he  be  less  so  by  dinner-time  ? And  how  rav- 
enous would  be  his  appetite  for  supper,  which  must 
undoubtedly  consist  of  the  same  sort  of  indigestible 
dishes  as  those  now  before  him ! How  many  days, 
think  you,  would  he  survive  a continuance  of  this  rich 
fare  ? 

These  reflections  so  troubled  wise  King  Midas,  that 
he  began  to  doubt  whether,  after  all,  riches  are  the  one 
desirable  thing  in  the  world,  or  even  the  most  desir- 
able. But  this  was  only  a passing  thought.  So  fas- 
cinated was  Midas  with  the  glitter  of  the  yellow  metal, 
that  he  would  still  have  refused  to  give  up  the  Golden 
Touch  for  so  paltry  a consideration  as  a breakfast. 
Just  imagine  what  a price  for  one  meal’s  victuals  ! It 
would  have  been  the  same  as  paying  millions  and  mill- 
ions of  money  (and  as  many  millions  more  as  would 
take  forever  to  reckon  up)  for  some  fried  trout,  an 
2gg,  a potato,  a hot  cake,  and  a cup  of  coffee  ! 

“ It  would  be  quite  too  dear,”  thought  Midas. 

Nevertheless,  so  great  was  his  hunger,  and  the  per- 
plexity of  his  situation,  that  he  again  groaned  aloud, 
and  very  grievously  too.  Our  pretty  Marygold  could 
endure  it  no  longer.  She  sat,  a moment,  gazing  at 
her  father,  and  trying,  with  all  the  might  of  her  little 
wits,  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  Then, 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


69 


with  a sweet  and  sorrowful  impulse  to  comfort  him,  she 
started  from  her  chair,  and,  running  to  Midas,  threw 
her  arms  affectionately  about  his  knees.  He  bent  down 
and  kissed  her.  He  felt  that  his  little  daughter’s  love 
was  worth  a thousand  times  more  than  he  had  gained 
by  the  Golden  Touch. 

44  My  precious,  precious  Marygold  ! ” cried  he. 

But  Marygold  made  no  answer. 

Alas,  what  had  he  done  ? How  fatal  was  the  gift 
which  the  stranger  bestowed  ! The  moment  the  lips 
of  Midas  touched  Marygold’s  forehead,  a change  had 
taken  place.  Her  sweet,  rosy  face,  so  full  of  affection 
as  it  had  been,  assumed  a glittering  yellow  color,  with 
yellow  tear-drops  congealing  on  her  cheeks.  Her 
beautiful  brown  ringlets  took  the  same  tint.  Her  soft 
and  tender  little  form  grew  hard  and  inflexible  within 
her  father’s  encircling  arms.  Oh,  terrible  misfortune  ! 
The  victim  of  his  insatiable  desire  for  wealth,  little 
Marygold  was  a human  child  no  longer,  but  a golden 
statue ! 

Yes,  there  she  was,  with  the  questioning  look  of  love, 
grief,  and  pity,  hardened  into  her  face.  It  was  the 
prettiest  and  most  woful  sight  that  ever  mortal  saw. 
All  the  features  and  tokens  of  Marygold  were  there ; 
even  the  beloved  little  dimple  remained  in  her  golden 
chin.  But,  the  more  perfect  was  the  resemblance,  the 
greater  was  the  father’s  agony  at  beholding  this  golden 
image,  which  was  all  that  was  left  him  of  a daughter. 
It  had  been  a favorite  phrase  of  Midas,  whenever  he 
felt  particularly  fond  of  the  child,  to  say  that  she  was 
worth  her  weight  in  gold.  And  now  the  phrase  had 
become  literally  true.  And  now,  at  last,  when  it  was 
too  late,  he  felt  how  infinitely  a warm  and  tender  heart, 
that  loved  him,  exceeded  in  value  all  the  wealth  that 
could  be  piled  up  betwixt  the  earth  and  sky ! 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


70 

It  would  be  too  sad  a story,  if  I were  to  tell  you  how 
Midas,  in  the  fulness  of  all  his  gratified  desires,  began 
to  wring  his  hands  and  bemoan  himself ; and  how  he 
could  neither  bear  to  look  at  Marygold,  nor  yet  to  look 
away  from  her.  Except  when  his  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  image,  he  could  not  possibly  believe  that  she  was 
changed  to  gold.  But,  stealing  another  glance,  there 
was  the  precious  little  figure,  with  a yellow  tear-drop 
on  its  yellow  cheek,  and  a look  so  piteous  and  tender, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  that  very  expression  must  needs 
soften  the  gold,  and  make  it  flesh  again.  This,  how- 
ever, could  not  be.  So  Midas  had  only  to  wring  his 
hands,  and  to  wish  that  he  were  the  poorest  man  in 
the  wide  world,  if  the  loss  of  all  his  wealth  might 
bring  back  the  faintest  rose-color  to  his  dear  child’s 
face.  v 

While  he  was  in  this  tumult  of  despair,  he  suddenly 
beheld  a stranger  standing  near  the  door.  Midas  bent 
down  his  head,  without  speaking ; for  he  recognized 
the  same  figure  which  had  appeared  to  him,  the  day 
before,  in  the  treasure-room,  and  had  bestowed  on  him 
this  disastrous  faculty  of  the  Golden  Touch.  The 
stranger’s  countenance  still  wore  a smile,  which  seemed 
to  shed  a yellow  lustre  all  about  the  room,  and  gleamed 
on  little  Marygold’s  image,  and  on  the  other  objects 
that  had  been  transmuted  by  the  touch  of  Midas. 

“ Well,  friend  Midas,”  said  the  stranger,  “ pray  how 
do  you  succeed  with  the  Golden  Touch  ? ” 

Midas  shook  his  head. 

“ I am  very  miserable,”  said  he. 

u Very  miserable,  indeed  ! ” exclaimed  the  stranger. 
“ And  how  happens  that  ? Have  I not  faithfully  kept 
my  promise  with  you  ? Have  you  not  everything  that 
your  heart  desired  ? ” 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH.  71 

44  Gold  is  not  everything,”  answered  Midas.  44  And 
I have  lost  all  that  my  heart  really  cared  for.” 

44 Ah!  So  you  have  made  a discovery,  since  yes- 
terday  ? ” observed  the  stranger.  44  Let  us  see,  then. 
Which  of  these  two  things  do  you  think  is  really  worth 
the  most,  — the  gift  of  the  Golden  Touch,  or  one  cup 
of  clear  cold  water  ? ” 

44  O blessed  water  ! ” exclaimed  Midas.  44  It  will 
never  moisten  my  parched  throat  again  ! ” 

44  The  Golden  Touch,”  continued  the  stranger,  44  or 
a crust  of  bread  ? ” 

44  A piece  of  bread,”  answered  Midas,  44  is  worth  all 
the  gold  on  earth ! ” 

44  The  Golden  Touch,”  asked  the  stranger,  44  or  your 
own  little  Marygold,  warm,  soft,  and  loving  as  she  was 
an  hour  ago  ? ” 

44  Oh  my  child,  my  dear  child ! ” cried  poor  Midas, 
wringing  his  hands.  44 1 would  not  have  given  that 
one  small  dimple  in  her  chin  for  the  power  of  chang- 
ing this  whole  big  earth  into  a solid  lump  of  gold ! ” 

44  You  are  wiser  than  you  were,  King  Midas ! ” said 
the  stranger,  looking  seriously  at  him.  44  Your  own 
heart,  I perceive,  has  not  been  entirely  changed  from 
flesh  to  gold.  Were  it  so,  your  case  would  indeed  be 
desperate.  But  you  appear  to  be  still  capable  of  under- 
standing that  the  commonest  things,  such  as  lie  within 
everybody’s  grasp,  are  more  valuable  than  the  riches 
which  so  many  mortals  sigh  and  struggle  after.  Tell 
me,  now,  do  you  sincerely  desire  to  rid  yourself  of  this 
Golden  Touch  ? ” 

It  is  hateful  to  me  ! ” replied  Midas. 

A fly  settled  on  his  nose,  but  immediately  fell  to  the 
floor  ; for  it,  too,  had  become  gold.  Midas  shuddered. 

44  Go,  then,”  said  the  stranger,  44  and  plunge  into  the 


72 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


river  that  glides  past  the  bottom  of  your  garden.  Take 
likewise  a vase  of  the  same  water,  and  sprinkle  it  over 
any  object  that  you  may  desire  to  change  back  again 
from  gold  into  its  former  substance.  If  you  do  this  in 
earnestness  and  sincerity,  it  may  possibly  repair  the 
mischief  which  your  avarice  has  occasioned.” 

King  Midas  bowed  low;  and  when  he  lifted  his 
head,  the  lustrous  stranger  had  vanished. 

You  will  easily  believe  that  Midas  lost  no  time  in 
snatching  up  a great  earthen  pitcher  (but,  alas  me ! 
it  was  no  longer  earthen  after  he  touched  it),  and  has- 
tening to  the  river-side.  As  he  scampered  along,  and 
forced  his  way  through  the  shrubbery,  it  was  positively 
marvellous  to  see  how  the  foliage  turned  yellow  behind 
him,  as  if  the  autumn  had  been  there,  and  nowhere 
else.  On  reaching  the  river’s  brink,  he  plunged  head- 
long in,  without  waiting  so  much  as  to  pull  off  his 
shoes. 

“ Poof ! poof ! poof ! ” snorted  King  Midas,  as  his 
head  emerged  out  of  the  water.  “ W ell ; this  is  really 
a refreshing  bath,  and  I think  it  must  have  quite 
washed  away  the  Golden  Touch.  And  now  for  filling 
my  pitcher ! ” 

As  he  dipped  the  pitcher  into  the  water,  it  glad- 
dened his  very  heart  to  see  it  change  from  gold  into 
the  same  good,  honest  earthen  vessel  which  it  had 
been  before  he  touched  it.  He  was  conscious,  also,  of 
a change  within  himself.  A cold,  hard,  and  heavy 
weight  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  his  bosom.  No 
doubt,  his  heart  had  been  gradually  losing  its  human 
substance,  and  transmuting  itself  into  insensible  metal, 
but  had  now  softened  back  again  into  flesh.  Perceiv- 
ing a violet,  that  grew  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  Midas 
touched  it  with  his  finger,  and  was  overjoyed  to  find 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


73 


that  the  delicate  flower  retained  its  purple  hue,  in- 
stead of  undergoing  a yellow  blight.  The  curse  of 
the  Golden  Touch  had,  therefore,  really  been  removed 
from  him. 

King  Midas  hastened  back  to  the  palace;  and,  I 
suppose,  the  servants  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it 
when  they  saw  their  royal  master  so  carefully  bringing 
home  an  earthen  pitcher  of  water.  But  that  water, 
which  was  to  undo  all  the  mischief  that  his  folly  had 
wrought,  was  more  precious  to  Midas  than  an  ocean  of 
molten  gold  could  have  been.  The  first  thing  he  did, 
as  you  need  hardly  be  told,  was  to  sprinkle  it  by  hand- 
fuls over  the  golden  figure  of  little  Marygold. 

No  sooner  did  it  fall  on  her  than  you  would  have 
laughed  to  see  how  the  rosy  color  came  back  to  the 
dear  child’s  cheek!  and  how  she  began  to  sneeze  and 
sputter ! — and  how  astonished  she  was  to  find  her- 
self dripping  wet,  and  her  father  still  throwing  more 
water  over  her ! 

44  Pray  do  not,  dear  father  ! ” cried  she.  44  See  how 
you  have  wet  my  nice  frock,  which  I put  on  only  this 
morning ! ” 

For  Marygold  did  not  know  that  she  had  been  a lit- 
tle golden  statue  ; nor  could  she  remember  anything 
that  had  happened  since  the  moment  when  she  ran 
with  outstretched  arms  to  comfort  poor  King  Midas. 

Her  father  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  his  be- 
loved child  how  very  foolish  he  had  been,  but  contented 
himself  with  showing  how  much  wiser  he  had  now 
grown.  For  this  purpose,  he  led  little  Marygold  into 
the  garden,  where  he  sprinkled  all  the  remainder  of  the 
water  over  the  rose-bushes,  and  with  such  good  effect 
that  above  five  thousand  roses  recovered  their  beautiful 
bloom.  There  were  two  circumstances,  however,  which, 


74 


THE  GOLDEN  TOUCH. 


as  long  as  lie  lived,  used  to  put  King  Midas  in  mind 
of  the  Golden  Touch.  One  was,  that  the  sands  of  the 
river  sparkled  like  gold ; the  other,  that  little  Mary- 
gold’s  hair  had  now  a golden  tinge,  which  he  had  never 
observed  in  it  before  she  had  been  transmuted  by  the 
effect  of  his  kiss.  This  change  of  hue  was  really  an 
improvement,  and  made  Marygold’s  hair  richer  than 
in  her  babyhood. 

When  King  Midas  had  grown  quite  an  old  man,  and 
used  to  trot  Marygold’s  children  on  his  knee,  he  was 
fond  of  telling  them  this  marvellous  story,  pretty  much 
as  I have  now  told  it  to  you.  And  then  would  he 
stroke  their  glossy  ringlets,  and  tell  them  that  their 
hair,  likewise,  had  a rich  shade  of  gold,  which  they  had 
inherited  from  their  mother. 

66  And  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  precious  little  folks,” 
quoth  King  Midas,  diligently  trotting  the  children  all 
the  while,  46  ever  since  that  morning,  I have  hated  the 
mary  sight  of  all  other  gold?  save  this  I ” 


SHADOW  BROOK. 


AFTER  THE  STORY. 

44  Well,  children,”  inquired  Eustace,  who  was  very 
fond  of  eliciting  a definite  opinion  from  his  auditors, 
44  did  you  ever,  in  all  your  lives,  listen  to  a better  story 
than  this  of  4 The  Golden  Touch  ’ ? ” 

44  Why,  as  to  the  story  of  King  Midas,”  said  saucy 
Primrose,  44  it  was  a famous  one  thousands  of  years  be- 
fore Mr.  Eustace  Bright  came  into  the  world,  and  will 
continue  to  be  so  as  long  after  he  quits  it.  But  some 
people  have  what  we  may  call  4 The  Leaden  Touch,’ 
and  make  everything  dull  and  heavy  that  they  lay 
their  fingers  upon.” 

44  You  are  a smart  child,  Primrose,  to  be  not  yet  in 
your  teens,”  said  Eustace,  taken  rather  aback  by  the 
piquancy  of  her  criticism.  44  But  you  well  know,  in 
your  naughty  little  heart,  that  I have  burnished  the 
old  gold  of  Midas  all  over  anew,  and  have  made  it 
shine  as  it  never  shone  before.  And  then  that  figure 
of  Marygold  ! Do  you  perceive  no  nice  workmanship 
in  that  ? And  how  finely  I have  brought  out  and 
deepened  the  moral ! What  say  you,  Sweet  Fern, 
Dandelion,  Clover,  Periwinkle?  Would  any  of  you, 
after  hearing  this  story,  be  so  foolish  as  to  desire  the 
faculty  of  changing  things  to  gold  ? ” 

44 1 should  like,”  said  Periwinkle,  a girl  of  ten,  44  to 
have  the  power  of  turning  everything  to  gold  with  my 
right  forefinger ; but,  with  my  left  forefinger,  I should 


76 


SHADOW  BROOK. 


want  the  power  of  changing  it  back  again,  if  the  first 
change  did  not  please  me.  And  I know  what  I would 
do,  this  very  afternoon ! ” 

u Pray  tell  me,”  said  Eustace. 

“ Why,”  answered  Periwinkle,  “ I would  touch  every 
one  of  these  golden  leaves  on  the  trees  with  my  left 
forefinger,  and  make  them  all  green  again  ; so  that  we 
might  have  the  summer  back  at  once,  with  no  ugly 
winter  in  the  mean  time.” 

“ O Periwinkle ! ” cried  Eustace  Bright,  “ there  you 
are  wrong,  and  would  do  a great  deal  of  mischief. 
Were  I Midas,  I would  make  nothing  else  but  just 
such  golden  days  as  these  over  and  over  again,  all  the 
year  throughout.  My  best  thoughts  always  come  a 
little  too  late.  Why  did  not  I tell  you  how  old  King 
Midas  came  to  America,  and  changed  the  dusky  au- 
tumn, such  as  it  is  in  other  countries,  into  the  bur- 
nished beauty  which  it  here  puts  on  ? He  gilded  the 
leaves  of  the  great  volume  of  Nature.” 

“ Cousin  Eustace,”  said  Sweet  Fern,  a good  little 
boy,  who  was  always  making  particular  inquiries  about 
the  precise  height  of  giants  and  the  littleness  of  fai- 
ries, “ how  big  was  Marygold,  and  how  much  did  she 
weigh  after  she  was  turned  to  gold  ? ” 

“ She  was  about  as  tall  as  you  are,”  replied  Eus- 
tace, “ and,  as  gold  is  very  heavy,  she  weighed  at  least 
two  thousand  pounds,  and  might  have  been  coined  into 
thirty  or  forty  thousand  gold  dollars.  I wish  Prim- 
rose were  worth  half  as  much.  Come,  little  people, 
let  us  clamber  out  of  the  dell,  and  look  about  us.” 

They  did  so.  The  sun  was  now  an  hour  or  two  be- 
yond its  noontide  mark,  and  filled  the  great  hollow  of 
the  valley  with  its  western  radiance,  so  that  it  seemed  ' 
to  be  brimming  with  mellow  light,  and  to  spill  it  over 


SHADOW  BROOK . 


77 


the  surrounding  hill-sides,  like  golden  wine  out  of  a 
howl.  It  was  such  a day  that  you  could  not  help  say- 
ing of  it,  44  There  never  was  such  a day  before  ! ” al- 
though yesterday  was  just  such  a day,  and  to-morrow 
will  be  just  such  another.  Ah,  but  there  are  very  few 
of  them  in  a twelvemonth’s  circle ! It  is  a remark- 
able peculiarity  of  these  October  days,  that  each  of 
them  seems  to  occupy  a great  deal  of  space,  although 
the  sun  rises  rather  tardily  at  that  season  of  the  year, 
and  goes  to  bed,  as  little  children  ought,  at  sober  six 
o’clock,  or  even  earlier.  We  cannot,  therefore,  call 
the  days  long ; but  they  appear,  somehow  or  other,  to 
make  up  for  their  shortness  by  their  breadth ; and 
when  the  cool  night  comes,  we  are  conscious  of  having 
enjoyed  a big  armful  of  life,  since  morning. 

44  Come,  children,  come ! ” cried  Eustace  Bright. 
44  More  nuts,  more  nuts,  more  nuts ! Fill  all  your  bas- 
kets ; and,  at  Christmas  time,  I will  crack  them  for 
you,  and  tell  you  beautiful  stories  ! ” 

So  away  they  went ; all  of  them  in  excellent  spirits, 
except  little  Dandelion,  who,  I am  sorry  to  tell  you, 
had  been  sitting  on  a chestnut-bur,  and  was  stuck  as 
full  as  a pincushion  of  its  prickles.  Dear  me,  how  un- 
comfortably he  must  have  felt  I 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


* 

TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 

INTRODUCTORY  TO  “ THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.” 

The  golden  days  of  October  passed  away,  as  so 
many  other  Octobers  have,  and  brown  November  like- 
wise, and  the  greater  part  of  chill  December,  too.  At 
last  came  merry  Christmas,  and  Eustace  Bright  along 
with  it,  making  it  all  the  merrier  by  his  presence. 
And,  the  day  after  his  arrival  from  college,  there  came 
a mighty  snow-storm.  Up  to  this  time,  the  winter 
had  held  back,  and  had  given  us  a good  many  mild 
days,  which  were  like  smiles  upon  its  wrinkled  visage. 
The  grass  had  kept  itself  green,  in  sheltered  places, 
such  as  the  nooks  of  southern  hill-slopes,  and  along 
the  lee  of  the  stone  fences.  It  was  but  a week  or  two 
ago,  and  since  the  beginning  of  the  month,  that  the 
children  had  found  a dandelion  in  bloom,  on  the  mar- 
gin of  Shadow  Brook,  where  it  glides  out  of  the  dell. 

But  no  more  green  grass  and  dandelions  now.  This 
was  such  a snow-storm ! Twenty  miles  of  it  might 
have  been  visible  at  once,  between  the  windows  of 
Tanglewood  and  the  dome  of  Taconic,  had  it  been 
possible  to  see  so  far  among  the  eddying  drifts  that 
whitened  all  the  atmosphere.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
hills  were  giants,  and  were  flinging  monstrous  hand- 
fuls of  snow  at  one  another,  in  their  enormous  sport 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM . 


79 


So  thick  were  the  fluttering  snow-flakes,  that  even  the 
trees,  midway  down  the  valley,  were  hidden  by  them 
the  greater  part  of  the  time.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
the  little  prisoners  of  Tanglewood  could  discern  a dim 
outline  of  Monument  Mountain,  and  the  smooth  white- 
ness of  the  frozen  lake  at  its  base,  and  the  black  or 
gray  tracts  of  woodland  in  the  nearer  landscape.  But 
these  were  merely  peeps  through  the  tempest. 

Nevertheless,  the  children  rejoiced  greatly  in  the 
snow-storm.  They  had  already  made  acquaintance 
with  it,  by  tumbling  heels  over  head  into  its  highest 
drifts,  and  flinging  snow  at  one  another,  as  we  have 
just  fancied  the  Berkshire  mountains  to  be  doing. 
And  now  they  had  come  back  to  their  spacious  play- 
room, which  was  as  big  as  the  great  drawing-room, 
and  was  lumbered  with  all  sorts  of  playthings,  large 
and  small.  The  biggest  was  a rocking-horse,  that 
looked  like  a real  pony ; and  there  was  a whole  fam- 
ily of  wooden,  waxen,  plaster,  and  china  dolls,  besides 
rag-babies  ; and  blocks  enough  to  build  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  and  nine-pins,  and  balls,  and  humming 
tops,  and  battledores,  and  grace-sticks,  and  skipping- 
ropes,  and  more  of  such  valuable  property  than  I 
could  tell  of  in  a printed  page.  But  the  children 
liked  the  snow-storm  better  than  them  all.  It  sug- 
gested so  many  brisk  enjoyments  for  to-morrow,  and 
all  the  remainder  of  the  winter.  The  sleigh-ride ; the 
slides  down  hill  into  the  valley  ; the  snow-images  that 
were  to  be  shaped  out ; the  snow-fortresses  that  were 
to  be  built ; and  the  snowballing  to  be  carried  on  ! 

So  the  little  folks  blessed  the  snow-storm,  and  were 
glad  to  see  it  come  thicker  and  thicker,  and  watched 
hopefully  the  long  drift  that  was  piling  itself  up  in 
the  avenue,  and  was  already  higher  than  any  of  their 
beads. 


80 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 


“Why,  we  shall  be  blocked  up  till  spring !”  cried 
they,  with  the  hugest  delight.  “ What  a pity  that  the 
house  is  too  high  to  be  quite  covered  up ! The  little 
red  house,  down  yonder,  will  be  buried  up  to  its 
eaves.” 

“ You  silly  children,  what  do  you  want  of  more 
snow  ? ” asked  Eustace,  who,  tired  of  some  novel  that 
he  was  skimming  through,  had  strolled  into  the  play- 
room. u It  has  done  mischief  enough  already,  by 
spoiling  the  only  skating  that  I could  hope  for  through 
the  winter.  We  shall  see  nothing  more  of  the  lake 
till  April ; and  this  was  to  have  been  my  first  day 
upon  it ! Don’t  you  pity  me,  Primrose  ? ” 

“ Oh,  to  be  sure ! ” answered  Primrose,  laughing. 
“ But,  for  your  comfort,  we  will  listen  to  another  of 
your  old  stories,  such  as  you  told  us  under  the  porch, 
and  down  in  the  hollow,  by  Shadow  Brook.  Perhaps 
I shall  like  them  better  now,  when  there  is  nothing  to 
do,  than  while  there  were  nuts  to  be  gathered,  and 
beautiful  weather  to  enjoy.” 

Hereupon,  Periwinkle,  Clover,  Sweet  Fern,  and  as 
many  others  of  the  little  fraternity  and  cousinhood 
as  were  still  at  Tanglewood,  gathered  about  Eustace, 
and  earnestly  besought  him  for  a story.  The  student 
yawned,  stretched  himself,  and  then,  to  the  vast  ad- 
miration of  the  small  people,  skipped  three  times  back 
and  forth  over  the  top  of  a chair,  in  order,  as  he  ex- 
plained to  them,  to  set  his  wits  in  motion. 

“ Well,  well,  children,”  said  he,  after  these  prelimi- 
naries, “ since  you  insist,  and  Primrose  has  set  her 
heart  upon  it,  I will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you. 
And,  that  you  may  know  what  happy  days  there  were 
before  snow-storms  came  into  fashion,  I will  tell  you  a 
story  of  the  oldest  of  all  old  times,  when  the  world 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM, 


81 


was  as  new  as  Sweet  Fern’s  bran-new  humming-top. 
There  was  then  but  one  season  in  the  year,  and  that 
was  the  delightful  summer ; and  but  one  age  for  mor- 
tals, and  that  was  childhood.” 

“ I never  heard  of  that  before,”  said  Primrose. 

“ Of  course,  you  never  did,”  answered  Eustace. 
“ It  shall  be  a story  of  what  nobody  but  myself  ever 
dreamed  of,  — a Paradise  of  children,  — and  how,  by 
the  naughtiness  of  just  such  a little  imp  as  Primrose 
here,  it  all  came  to  nothing.” 

So  Eustace  Bright  sat  down  in  the  chair  which  he 
had  just  been  skipping  over,  took  Cowslip  upon  his 
knee,  ordered  silence  throughout  the  auditory,  and  be- 
gan a story  about  a sad  naughty  child,  whose  name 
was  Pandora,  and  about  her  playfellow  Epimetheus. 
You  may  read  it,  word  for  word,  in  the  pages  that 
come  next. 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


Long,  long  ago,  when  this  old  world  was  in  its 
tender  infancy,  there  was  a child,  named  Epimetheus, 
who  never  had  either  father  or  mother ; and,  that  he 
might  not  be  lonely,  another  child,  fatherless  and 
motherless  like  himself,  was  sent  from  a far  country, 
to  live  with  him,  and  be  his  playfellow  and  helpmate. 
Her  name  was  Pandora. 

The  first  thing  that  Pandora  saw,  when  she  entered 
the  cottage  where  Epimetheus  dwelt,  was  a great  box. 
And  almost  the  first  question  which  she  put  to  him, 
after  crossing  the  threshold,  was  this,  — 

44  Epimetheus,  what  have  you  in  that  box  ? ” 

44  My  dear  little  Pandora,”  answered  Epimetheus, 
44  that  is  a secret,  and  you  must  be  kind  enough  not  to 
ask  any  questions  about  it.  The  box  was  left  here  to 
be  kept  safely,  and  I do  not  myself  know  what  it  con- 
tains.” 

44  But  who  gave  it  to  you  ? ” asked  Pandora.  44  And 
where  did  it  come  from  ? ” 

44  That  is  a secret,  too,”  replied  Epimetheus. 

44  How  provoking ! ” exclaimed  Pandora,  pouting 
her  lip.  44 1 wish  the  great  ugly  box  were  out  of  the 
way ! ” 

44  Oh  come,  don’t  think  of  it  any  more,”  cried  Epime- 
theus. 44  Let  us  run  out  of  doors,  and  have  some  nice 
play  witli  the  other  children.” 

It  is  thousands  of  years  since  Epimetheus  and  Pan- 
dora were  alive  ; and  the  world,  nowadays,  is  a very 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


83 


different  sort  of  thing  from  what  it  was  in  their  time. 
Then,  everybody  was  a child.  There  needed  no 
fathers  and  mothers  to  take  care  of  the  children  ; be- 
cause there  was  no  danger,  nor  trouble  of  any  kind, 
and  no  clothes  to  be  mended,  and  there  was  always 
plenty  to  eat  and  drink.  Whenever  a child  wanted 
his  dinner,  he  found  it  growing  on  a tree ; and,  if  he 
looked  at  the  tree  in  the  morning,  he  could  see  the  ex- 
panding blossom  of  that  night’s  supper ; or,  at  even- 
tide, he  saw  the  tender  bud  of  to-morrow’s  breakfast. 
It  was  a very  pleasant  life  indeed.  No  labor  to  be 
done,  no  tasks  to  be  studied ; nothing  but  sports  and 
dances,  and  sweet  voices  of  children  talking,  or  carol- 
ling like  birds,  or  gushing  out  in  merry  laughter, 
throughout  the  livelong  day. 

What  was  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  children  never 
quarrelled  among  themselves ; neither  had  they  any 
crying  fits ; nor,  since  time  first  began,  had  a single 
one  of  these  little  mortals  ever  gone  apart  into  a cor 
ner,  and  sulked.  Oh,  what  a good  time  was  that  to  be 
alive  in  ? The  truth  is,  those  ugly  little  winged  mon- 
sters, called  Troubles,  which  are  now  almost  as  nu- 
merous as  mosquitoes,  had  never  yet  been  seen  on  the 
earth.  It  is  probable  that  the  very  greatest  dis- 
quietude which  a child  had  ever  experienced  was  Pan- 
dora’s vexation  at  not  being  able  to  discover  the  secret 
of  the  mysterious  box. 

This  was  at  first  only  the  faint  shadow  of  a Trouble ; 
but,  every  day,  it  grew  more  and  more  substantial, 
until,  before  a great  while,  the  cottage  of  Epimetheus 
and  Pandora  was  less  sunshiny  than  those  of  the  other 
children. 

“ Whence  can  the  box  have  come  ? ” Pandora  con- 
tinually kept  saying  to  herself  and  to  Epimetheus, 
w And  what  in  the  world  can  be  inside  of  it  ? ” 


84 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


“ Always  talking  about  this  box ! ” said  Epimetheus, 
at  last ; for  he  had  grown  extremely  tired  of  the  sub- 
ject. “ I wish,  dear  Pandora,  you  would  try  to  talk 
of  something  else.  Come,  let  us  go  and  gather  some 
ripe  figs,  and  eat  them  under  the  trees,  for  our  supper. 
And  I know  a vine  that  has  the  sweetest  and  juiciest 
grapes  you  ever  tasted.” 

44  Always  talking  about  grapes  and  figs ! ” cried 
Pandora,  pettishly. 

44  Well,  then,”  said  Epimetheus,  who  was  a very 
good-tempered  child,  like  a multitude  of  children  in 
those  days,  44  let  us  run  out  and  have  a merry  time 
with  our  playmates.” 

44 1 am  tired  of  merry  times,  and  don’t  care  if  I 
never  have  any  more  ! ” answered  our  pettish  little 
Pandora.  44  And,  besides,  I never  do  have  any.  This 
ugly  box ! I am  so  taken  up  with  thinking  about  it 
all  the  time.  I insist  upon  your  telling  me  what  is 
inside  of  it.” 

44  As  I have  already  said,  fifty  times  over,  I do  not 
know ! ” replied  Epimetheus,  getting  a little  vexed. 
44  How,  then,  can  I tell  you  what  is  inside  ? ” 

44  You  might  open  it,”  said  Pandora,  looking  side- 
ways at  Epimetheus,  44  and  then  we  could  see  for  our- 
selves.” 

44  Pandora,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ? ” exclaimed 
Epimetheus. 

And  his  face  expressed  so  much  horror  at  the  idea 
af  looking  into  a box,  which  had  been  confided  to  him 
an  the  condition  of  his  never  opening  it,  that  Pandora 
thought  it  best  not  to  suggest  it  any  more.  Still,  how- 
ever, she  could  not  help  thinking  and  talking  about 
the  box. 

44  At  least,”  said  she,  44  you  can  tell  me  how  it  came 
here.” 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


85 


“ It  was  left  at  the  door,”  replied  Epimetheus, 
“ just  before  you  came,  by  a person  who  looked  very 
smiling  and  intelligent,  and  who  could  hardly  forbear 
laughing  as  he  put  it  down.  He  was  dressed  in  an 
odd  kind  of  a cloak,  and  had  on  a cap  that  seemed  to 
be  made  partly  of  feathers,  so  that  it  looked  almost  as 
if  it  had  wings.” 

“ What  sort  of  a staff  had  he  ? ” asked  Pandora. 

“Oh,  the  most  curious  staff  you  ever  saw ! ” cried 
Epimetheus.  “ It  was  like  two  serpents  twisting 
around  a stick,  and  was  carved  so  naturally  that  I,  at 
Jrst,  thought  the  serpents  were  alive.” 

“ I know  him,”  said  Pandora,  thoughtfully.  “ No- 
body else  has  such  a staff.  It  was  Quicksilver ; and 
he  brought  me  hither,  as  well  as  the  box.  No  doubt 
he  intended  it  for  me  ; and,  most  probably,  it  contains 
pretty  dresses  for  me  to  wear,  or  toys  for  you  and  me 
to  play  with,  or  something  very  nice  for  us  both  to 
eat ! ” 

“ Perhaps  so,”  answered  Epimetheus,  turning  away. 
“ But  until  Quicksilver  comes  back  and  tells  us  so,  we 
have  neither  of  us  any  right  to  lift  the  lid  of  the  box.” 

“ What  a dull  boy  he  is ! ” muttered  Pandora,  as 
Epimetheus  left  the  cottage.  “ I do  wish  he  had  a 
little  more  enterprise  ! ” 

* For  the  first  time  since  her  arrival,  Epimetheus  had 
gone  out  without  asking  Pandora  to  accompany  him. 
He  went  to  gather  figs  and  grapes  by  himself,  or  to 
seek  whatever  amusement  he  could  find,  in  other  soci- 
ety than  his  little  playfellow’s.  He  was  tired  to  death 
of  hearing  about  the  box,  and  heartily  wished  that 
Quicksilver,  or  whatever  was  the  messenger’s  name, 
had  left  it  at  some  other  child’s  door,  where  Pandora 
would  never  have  set  eyes  on  it.  So  perseveringly  as 


86 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


she  did  babble  about  this  one  thing ! The  box,  the 
box,  and  nothing  but  the  box ! It  seemed  as  if  the 
box  were  bewitched,  and  as  if  the  cottage  were  not 
big  enough  to  hold  it,  without  Pandora’s  continually 
stumbling  over  it,  and  making  Epimetheus  stumble 
over  it  likewise,  and  bruising  all  four  of  their  shins. 

Well,  it  was  really  hard  that  poor  Epimetheus 
should  have  a box  in  his  ears  from  morning  till  night ; 
especially  as  the  little  people  of  the  earth  were  so  un- 
accustomed to  vexations,  in  those  happy  days,  that 
they  knew  not  how  to  deal  with  them.  Thus,  a small 
vexation  made  as  much  disturbance  then,  as  a far  big- 
ger one  would  in  our  own  times. 

After  Epimetheus  was  gone,  Pandora  stood  gazing 
at  the  box.  She  had  called  it  ugly,  above  a hundred 
times ; but,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  had  said  against  it, 
it  was  positively  a very  handsome  article  of  furniture, 
and  would  have  been  quite  an  ornament  to  any  room 
in  which  it  should  be  placed.  It  was  made  of  a beau- 
tiful kind  of  wood,  with  dark  and  rich  veins  spreading 
over  its  surface,  which  was  so  highly  polished  that  lit- 
tle Pandora  could  see  her  face  in  it.  As  the  child  had 
no  other  looking-glass,  it  is  odd  that  she  did  not  value 
the  box,  merely  on  this  account. 

The  edges  and  corners  of  the  box  were  carved  with 
most  wonderful  skill.  Around  the  margin  there  were 
figures  of  graceful  men  and  women,  and  the  prettiest 
children  ever  seen,  reclining  or  sporting  amid  a pro- 
fusion of  flowers  and  foliage;' and  these  various  ob- 
jects were  so  exquisitely  represented,  and  were  wrought 
together  in  such  harmony,  that  flowers,  foliage,  and 
human  beings  seemed  to  combine  into  a wreath  of 
mingled  beauty.  But  here  and  there,  peeping  forth 
from  behind  the  carved  foliage,  Pandora  once  or  twice 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


87 


fancied  that  she  saw  a face  not  so  lovely,  or  something 
or  other  that  was  disagreeable,  and  which  stole  the 
beauty  out  of  all  the  rest.  Nevertheless,  on  looking 
more  closely,  and  touching  the  spot  with  her  finger, 
she  could  discover  nothing  of  the  kind.  Some  face, 
that  was  really  beautiful,  bad  been  made  to  look  ugly 
by  her  catching  a sideway  glimpse  at  it. 

The  most  beautiful  face  of  all  was  done  in  what  is 
called  high  relief,  in  the  centre  of  the  lid.  There  was 
nothing  else,  save  the  dark,  smooth  richness  of  the 
polished  wood,  and  this  one  face  in  the  centre,  with  a 
garland  of  flowers  about  its  brow.  Pandora  had 
looked  at  this  face  a great  many  times,  and  imagined 
that  the  mouth  could  smile  if  it  liked,  or  be  grave 
when  it  chose,  the  same  as  any  living  mouth.  The 
features,  indeed,  all  wore  a very  lively  and  rather 
mischievous  expression,  which  looked  almost  as  if  it 
needs  must  burst  out  of  the  carved  lips,  and  utter  it- 
self in  words. 

Had  the  mouth  spoken,  it  would  probably  have  been 
something  like  this : 

“ Do  not  be  afraid,  Pandora ! What  harm  can 
there  be  in  opening  the  box  ? Never  mind  that  poor, 
simple  Epimetheus  ! You  are  wiser  than  he,  and  have 
ten  times  as  much  spirit.  Open  the  box,  and  see  if 
you  do  not  find  something  very  pretty ! ” 

The  box,  I had  almost  forgotten  to  say,  was  fas- 
tened ; not  by  a lock,  nor  by  any  other  such  contri- 
vance, but  by  a very  intricate  knot  of  gold  cord, 
There  appeared  to  be  no  end  to  this  knot,  and  no  be- 
ginning. Never  was  a knot  so  cunningly  twisted,  nor 
with  so  many  ins  and  outs,  which  roguishly  defied  the 
skilfullest  fingers  to  disentangle  them.  And  yet,  by 
the  very  difficulty  that  there  was  in  it,  Pandora  was 


88 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


the  more  tempted  to  examine  the  knot,  and  just  se© 
how  it  was  made.  Two  or  three  times,  already,  she 
had  stooped  over  the  box,  and  taken  the  knot  between 
her  thumb  and  forefinger,  but  without  positively  try- 
ing to  undo  it. 

“I  really  believe,”  said  she  to  herself,  “ that  I begin 
to  see  how  it  was  done.  Nay,  perhaps  I could  tie  it 
up  again,  after  undoing  it.  There  would  be  no  harm 
in  that,  surely.  Even  Epimetheus  would  not  blame 
me  for  that.  I need  not  open  the  box,  and  should 
not,  of  course,  without  the  foolish  boy’s  consent,  even 
if  the  knot  were  untied.” 

It  might  have  been  better  for  Pandora  if  she  had 
had  a little  work  to  do,  or  anything  to  employ  her 
mind  upon,  so  as  not  to  be  so  constantly  thinking  of 
this  one  subject.  But  children  led  so  easy  a life,  be- 
fore any  Troubles  came  into  the  world,  that  they  had 
really  a great  deal  too  much  leisure.  They  could  not 
be  forever  playing  at  hide-and-seek  among  the  flower- 
shrubs,  or  at  blind-man’s-buff  with  garlands  over  their 
eyes,  or  at  whatever  other  games  had  been  found  out, 
while  Mother  Earth  was  in  her  babyhood.  When  life 
is  all  sport,  toil  is  the  real  play.  There  was  absolutely 
nothing  to  do.  A little  sweeping  and  dusting  about 
the  cottage,  I suppose,  and  the  gathering  of  fresh 
flowers  (which  were  only  too  abundant  everywhere), 
and  arranging  them  in  vases,  — and  poor  little  Pan- 
dora’s day’s  work  was  over.  And  then,  for  the  rest  of 
the  day,  there  was  the  box! 

After  all,  I am  not  quite  sure  that  the  box  was  not 
a blessing  to  her  in  its  way.  It  supplied  her  with  such 
a variety  of  ideas  to  think  of,  and  to  talk  about,  when- 
ever she  had  anybody  to  listen ! When  she  was  in 
good-humor,  she  could  admire  the  bright  polish  of  its 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


89 


sides,  and  the  rich  border  of  beautiful  faces  and  foli- 
age that  ran  all  around  it.  Or,  if  she  chanced  to  be 
ill-tempered,  she  could  give  it  a push,  or  kick  it  with 
her  naughty  little  foot.  And  many  a kick  did  the  box 
— (but  it  was  a mischievous  box,  as  we  shall  see,  and 
deserved  all  it  got)  — many  a kick  did  it  receive. 
But,  certain  it  is,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  box,  our 
active-minded  little  Pandora  would  not  have  known 
half  so  well  how  to  spend  her  time  as  she  now  did. 

For  it  was  really  an  endless  employment  to  guess 
what  was  inside.  What  could  it  be,  indeed?  Just 
imagine,  my  little  hearers,  how  busy  your  wits  would 
be,  if  there  were  a great  box  in  the  house,  which,  as 
you  might  have  reason  to  suppose,  contained  some- 
thing new  and  pretty  for  your  Christmas  or  New- 
Year’s  gifts.  Do  you  think  that  you  should  be  less 
curious  than  Pandora  ? If  you  were  left  alone  with 
the  box,  might  you  not  feel  a little  tempted  to  lift  the 
lid?  But  you  would  not  do  it.  Oh,  fie!  No,  no! 
Only,  if  you  thought  there  were  toys  in  it,  it  would  be 
so  very  hard  to  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  taking  just 
one  peep  ! I know  not  whether  Pandora  expected  any 
toys  ; for  none  had  yet  begun  to  be  made,  probably,  in 
those  days,  when  the  world  itself  was  one  great  play- 
thing for  the  children  that  dwelt  upon  it.  But  Pan- 
dora was  convinced  that  there  was  something  very 
beautiful  and  valuable  in  the  box ; and  therefore  she 
felt  just  as  anxious  to  take  a peep  as  any  of  these 
little  girls,  here  around  me,  would  have  felt.  And, 
possibly,  a little  more  so  ; but  of  that  I am  not  quite 
so  certain. 

I On  this  particular  day,  however,  which  we  have  so 
long  been  talking  about,  her  curiosity  grew  so  much 
greater  than  it  usually  was,  that,  at  last,  she  ap- 


90 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


proached  the  box.  She  was  more  than  half  deter- 
mined to  open  it,  if  she  could.  Ah,  naughty  Pan- 
dora ! 

First,  however,  she  tried  to  lift  it.  It  was  heavy ; 
quite  too  heavy  for  the  slender  strength  of  a child, 
like  Pandora.  She  raised  one  end  of  the  box  a few 
inches  from  the  floor,  and  let  it  fall  again,  with  a 
pretty  loud  thump.  A moment  afterwards,  she  al- 
most fancied  that  she  heard  something  stir  inside  of 
the  box.  She  applied  her  ear  as  closely  as  possible, 
and  listened.  Positively,  there  did  seem  to  be  a kind 
of  stifled  murmur,  within ! Or  was  it  merely  the 
singing  in  Pandora’s  ears  ? Or  could  it  be  the  beat- 
ing of  her  heart  ? The  child  could  not  quite  satisfy 
herself  whether  she  had  heard  anything  or  no.  But, 
at  all  events,  her  curiosity  was  stronger  than  ever. 

As  she  drew  back  her  head,  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
knot  of  gold  cord. 

“ It  must  have  been  a very  ingenious  person  who 
tied  this  knot,”  said  Pandora  to  herself.  “But  I think 
I could  untie  it  nevertheless.  I am  resolved,  at  least, 
to  find  the  two  ends  of  the  cord.” 

So  she  took  he  golden  knot  in  her  fingers,  and 
pried  into  its  intricacies  as  sharply  as  she  could.  Al- 
most without  intending  it,  or  quite  knowing  what  she 
was  about,  she  was  soon  busily  engaged  in  attempting 
to  undo  it.  Meanwhile,  the  bright  sunshine  came 
through  the  open  window  ; as  did  likewise  the  merry 
voices  of  the  children,  playing  at  a distance,  and  per- 
haps the  voice  of  Epimetheus  among  them.  Pandora 
stopped  to  listen.  N What  a beautiful  day  it  was  ! 
W ould  it  not  be  wiser,  if  she  were  to  let  the  trouble- 
some knot  alone,  and  think  no  more  about  the  box, 
but  run  and  join  her  little  playfellows,  and  be  happy? 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


91 


All  this  time,  however,  her  fingers  were  half  un- 
consciously busy  with  the  knot;  and  happening  to 
glance  at  the  flower-wreathed  face  on  the  lid  of  the 
enchanted  box,  she  seemed  to  perceive  it  slyly  grin- 
ning at  her. 

44  That  face  looks  very  mischievous,”  thought  Pan- 
dora. 44  I wonder  whether  it  smiles  because  I am  do- 
ing wrong ! I have  the  greatest  mind  in  the  world  to 
run  away ! ” 

But  just  then,  by  the  merest  accident,  she  gave  the 
knot  a kind  of  a twist,  which  produced  a wonderful 
result.  The  gold  cord  untwined  itself,  as  if  by  magic, 
and  left  the  box  without  a fastening. 

44  This  is  the  strangest  thing  I ever  knew ! ” said 
Pandora.  44  What  will  Epimetheus  say  ? And  how 
can  I possibly  tie  it  up  again  ? ” 

She  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  restore  the  knot, 
but  soon  found  it  quite  beyond  her  skill.  It  had  dis- 
entangled itself  so  suddenly  that  she  could  not  in  the 
least  remember  how  the  strings  had  been  doubled  into 
one  another ; and  when  she  tried  to  recollect  the  shape 
and  appearance  of  the  knot,  it  seemed  to  have  gone 
entirely  out  of  her  mind.  Nothing  was  to  be  done, 
therefore,  but  to  let  the  box  remain  as  it  was  until 
Epimetheus  should  come  in. 

44  But,”  said  Pandora,  44  when  he  finds  the  knot  un- 
tied, he  will  know  that  I have  done  it.  How  shall  I 
make  him  believe  that  I have  not  looked  into  the 
box?” 

And  then  the  thought  came  into  her  naughty  little 
heart,  that,  since  she  would  be  suspected  of  having 
looked  into  the  box,  she  might  just  as  well  do  so  at 
once.  Oh,  very  naughty  and  very  foolish  Pandora ! 
You  should  have  thought  only  of  doing  what  was 


92 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


right,  and  of  leaving  undone  what  was  wrong,  and  not 
of  what  your  playfellow  Epimetheus  would  have  said  or 
believed.  And  so  perhaps  she  might,  if  the  enchanted 
face  on  the  lid  of  the  box  had  not  looked  so  bewitch- 
ingly  persuasive  at  her,  and  if  she  had  not  seemed 
to  hear,  more  distinctly,  than  before,  the  murmur  of 
small  voices  within.  She  could  not  tell  whether  it 
was  fancy  or  no ; but  there  was  quite  a little  tumult 
of  whispers  in  her  ear,  — or  else  it  was  her  curiosity 
that  whispered,  — 

“ Let  us  out,  dear  Pandora,  — pray  let  us  out ! 
We  will  be  such  nice  pretty  playfellows  for  you! 
Only  let  us  out ! ” 

46  What  can  it  be  ? ” thought  Pandora.  46  Is  there 
something  alive  in  the  box  ? Well ! — yes ! — I am 
resolved  to  take  just  one  peep  ! Only  one  peep  ; and 
then  the  lid  shall  be  shut  down  as  safely  as  ever! 
There  cannot  possibly  be  any  harm  in  just  one  little 
peep ! ” 

But  it  is  now  time  for  us  to  see  what  Epimetheus 
was  doing. 

This  was  the  first  time,  since  his  little  playmate  had 
Come  to  dwell  with  him,  that  he  had  attempted  to  en- 
joy any  pleasure  in  which  she  did  not  partake.  But 
nothing  went  right ; nor  was  he  nearly  so  happy  as  on 
other  days.  He  could  not  find  a sweet  grape  or  a ripe 
fig  (if  Epimetheus  had  a fault,  it  was  a little  too  much 
fondness  for  figs)  ; or,  if  ripe  at  all,  they  were  over- 
ripe, and  so  sweet  as  to  be  jcloying.  There  was  no 
mirth  in  his  heart,  such  as  usually  made  his  voice 
gush  out,  of  its  own  accord,  and  swell  the  merriment 
of  his  companions.  In  short,  he  grew  so  uneasy  and 
discontented,  that  the  other  children  could  not  imag- 
ine what  was  the  matter  with  Epimetheus.  Neither 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


93 


did  he  himself  know  what  ailed  him,  any  better  than 
they  did.  For  you  must  recollect  that,  at  the  time  we 
are  speaking  of,  it  was  everybody’s  nature,  and  con- 
stant habit,  to  be  happy.  The  world  had  not  yet 
learned  to  be  otherwise.  Not  a single  soul  or  body, 
since  these  children  were  first  sent  to  enjoy  them- 
selves on  the  beautiful  earth,  had  ever  been  sick  or 
out  of  sorts. 

At  length,  discovering  that,  somehow  or  other,  he 
put  a stop  to  all  the  play,  Epimetheus  judged  it  best 
to  go  back  to  Pandora,  who  was  in  a humor  better 
suited  to  his  own.  But,  with  a hope  of  giving  her 
pleasure,  he  gathered  some  flowers,  and  made  them 
into  a wreath,  which  he  meant  to  put  upon  her  head. 
The  flowers  were  very  lovely,  — roses,  and  lilies,  and 
orange-blossoms,  and  a great  many  more,  which  left  a 
trail  of  fragrance  behind,  as  Epimetheus  carried  them 
along ; and  the  wreath  was  put  together  with  as  much 
skill  as  could  reasonably  be  expected  of  a boy.  The 
fingers  of  little  girls,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me, 
are  the  fittest  to  twine  flower- wreaths ; but  boys  could 
do  it,  in  those  days,  rather  better  than  they  can  now. 
f And  here  I must  mention  that  a great  black  cloud 
had  been  gathering  in  the  sky,  for  some  time  past,  al- 
though it  had  not  yet  overspread  the  sun.  But,  just 
as  Epimetheus  reached  the  cottage  door,  this  cloud  be- 
gan to  intercept  the  sunshine,  and  thus  o make  a sud- 
den and  sad  obscurity. 

He  entered  softly  ; for  he  meant,  if  possible,  to  steal 
behind  Pandora,  and  fling  the  wreath  of  flowers  over 
her  head,  before  she  should  be  aware  of  his  approach, 
But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  no  need  of  his  treading 
so  very  lightly.  He  might  have  trod  as  heavily  as  he 
pleased,  — as  heavily  as  a grown  man,  — as  heavily, 


94 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


I was  going  to  say,  as  an  elepliant,  — without  much 
probability  of  Pandora’s  hearing  his  footsteps.  She 
was  too  intent  upon  her  purpose.  At  the  moment  of 
his  entering  the  cottage,  the  naughty  child  had  put  her 
hand  to  the  lid,  and  was  on  the  point  of  opening  the 
mysterious  box.  Epimetheus  beheld  her.  If  he  had 
cried  out,  Pandora  would  probably  have  withdrawn  her 
hand,  and  the  fatal  mystery  of  the  box  might  never 
have  been  known. 

But  Epimetheus  himself,  although  he  said  very  little 
about  it,  had  his  own  share  of  curiosity  to  know  what 
was  inside.  Perceiving  that  Pandora  was  resolved  to 
find  out  the  secret,  he  determined  that  his  playfellow 
should  not  be  the  only  wise  person  in  the  cottage. 
And  if  there  were  anything  pretty  or  valuable  in  the 
box,  he  meant  to  take  half  of  it  to  himself.  Thus, 
after  all  his  sage  speeches  to  Pandora  about  restrain- 
ing her  curiosity,  Epimetheus  turned  out  to  be  quite 
as  foolish,  and  nearly  as  much  in  fault,  as  she.  So, 
whenever  we  blame  Pandora  for  what  happened,  we 
must  not  forget  to  shake  our  heads  at  Epimetheus 
likewise. 

As  Pandora  raised  the  lid,  the  cottage  grew  very 
dark  and  dismal ; for  the  black  cloud  had  now  swept 
quite  over  the  sun,  and  seemed  to  have  buried  it  alive. 
There  had,  for  a little  while  past,  been  a low  growling 
and  muttering,  which  all  at  once  broke  into  a heavy 
peal  of  thunder.  But  Pandora,  heeding  nothing  of  all 
this,  lifted  the  lid  nearly  upright,  and  looked  inside. 
It  seemed  as  if  a sudden  swarm  of  winged  creatures 
brushed  past  her,  taking  flight  out  of  the  box,  while, 
at  the  same  instant,  she  heard  the  voice  of  Epimetheus, 
with  a lamentable  tone,  as  if  he  were  in  pain. 

“ Oh,  I am  stung  ! ” cried  he.  “ I am  stung ! 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN.  95 

Naughty  Pandora ! why  have  you  opened  this  wicked 
box?” 

Pandora  let  fall  the  lid,  and,  starting  up,  looked 
about  her,  to  see  what  had  befallen  Epimetheus.  The 
thunder-cloud  had  so  darkened  the  room  that  she  could 
not  very  clearly  discern  wliat  was  in  it.  But  she  heard 
a disagreeable  buzzing,  as  if  a great  many  huge  flies, 
or  gigantic  mosquitoes,  or  those  insects  which  we  call 
dor-bugs,  and  pinching-dogs,  were  darting  about.  And, 
as  her  eyes  grew  more  accustomed  to  the  imperfect 
light,  she  saw  a crowd  of  ugly  little  shapes,  with  bats’ 
wings,  looking  abominably  spiteful,  and  armed  with 
terribly  long  stings  in  their  tails.  It  was  one  of  these 
that  had  stung  Epimetheus.  Nor  was  it  a great  while 
before  Pandora  herself  began  to  scream,  in  no  less 
pain  and  affright  than  her  playfellow,  and  making  a 
vast  deal  more  hubbub  about  it.  An  odious  little 
monster  had  settled  on  her  forehead,  and  would  have 
stung  her  I know  not  how  deeply,  if  Epimetheus  had 
not  run  and  brushed  it  away. 

Now,  if  you  wish  to  know  what  these  ugly  things 
might  be,  which  had  made  their  escape  out  of  the  box, 
I must  tell  you  that  they  were  the  whole  family  of 
earthly  Troubles.  There  were  evil  Passions ; there 
were  a great  many  species  of  Cares  ; there  were  more 
than  a hundred  and  fifty  Sorrows  ; there  were  Dis- 
eases, in  a vast  nmnber  of  miserable  and  painful 
shapes  ; there  were  more  kinds  of  Naughtiness  than  it 
would  be  of  any  use  to  talk  about.  In  short,  every- 
thing that  has  since  afflicted  the  souls  and  bodies  of 
mankind  had  been  shut  up  in  the  mysterious  box,  and 
given  to  Epimetheus  and  Pandora  to  be  kept  safely, 
in  order  that  the  happy  children  of  the  world  might 
never  be  molested  by  them.  Had  they  been  faithful 


96 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


to  their  trust,  all  would  have  gone  well.  No  grown 
person  would  ever  have  been  sad,  nor  any  child  have 
had  cause  to  shed  a single  tear,  from  that  hour  until 
this  moment. 

But  — and  you  may  see  by  this  how  a wrong  act  of 
* any  one  mortal  is  a calamity  to  the  whole  world  — by 
Pandora’s  lifting  the  lid  of  that  miserable  box,  and  by 
the  fault  of  Epimetheus,  too,  in  not  preventing  her, 
these  Troubles  have  obtained  a foothold  among  us, 
and  do  not  seem  very  likely  to  be  driven  away  in  a 
hurry.  For  it  was  impossible,  as  you  will  easily  guess, 
that  the  two  children  should  keep  the  ugly  swarm  in 
their  own  little  cottage.  On  the  contrary,  the  first 
thing  that  they  did  was  to  fling  open  the  doors  and 
windows,  in  hopes  of  getting  rid  of  them ; and,  sure 
enough,  away  flew  the  winged  Troubles  all  abroad, 
and  so  pestered  and  tormented  the  small  people,  every- 
where about,  that  none  of  them  so  much  as  smiled  for 
many  days  afterwards.  And,  what  was  very  singular, 
all  the  flowers  and  dewy  blossoms  on  earth,  not  one  of 
which  had  hitherto  faded,  now  began  to  droop  and 
shed  their  leaves,  after  a day  or  two.  The  children, 
moreover,  who  before  seemed  immortal  in  their  child- 
hood, now  grew  older,  day  by  day,  and  came  soon  to 
be  youths  and  maidens,  and  men  and  women  by  and 
by,  and  aged  people,  before  they  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing. 

Meanwhile,  the  naughty  Pandora,  and  hardly  less 
naughty  Epimetheus,  remained  in  their  cottage.  Both 
of  them  had  been  grievously  stung,  and  were  in  a good 
deal  of  pain,  which  seemed  the  more  intolerable  to 
them,  because  it  was  the  very  first  pain  that  had  ever 
been  felt  since  the  world  began.  Of  course,  they  were 
entirely  unaccustomed  to  it,  and  could  have  no  idea 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


97 


what  it  meant.  Besides  all  this,  they  were  in  exceed- 
ingly bad  humor,  both  with  themselves  and  with  one 
another.  In  order  to  indulge  it  to  the  utmost,  Epi- 
metheus  sat  down  sullenly  in  a corner  with  his  back 
towards  Pandora ; while  Pandora  flung  herself  upon 
the  floor  and  rested  her  head  on  the  fatal  and  abom- 
inable box.  She  was  crying  bitterly,  and  sobbing  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

Suddenly  there  was  a gentle  little  tap  on  the  inside 
of  the  lid. 

x “ What  can  that  be  ? ” cried  Pandora,  lifting  her 
head. 

But  either  Epimetheus  had  not  heard  the  tap,  or 
was  too  much  out  of  humor  to  notice  it.  At  any  rate, 
he  made  no  answer. 

46  You  are  very  unkind,”  said  Pandora,  sobbing 
anew,  44  not  to  speak  to  me  ! ” 

Again  the  tap ! It  sounded  like  the  tiny  knuckles 
of  a fairy’s  hand,  knocking  lightly  and  playfully  on 
the  inside  of  the  box. 

44  Who  are  you  ? ” asked  Pandora,  with  a little  of 
her  former  curiosity.  “Who  are  you,  inside  of  this 
naughty  box  ? ” 

A sweet  little  voice  spoke  from  within,  — 

44  Only  lift  the  lid,  and  you  shall  see.” 

44  No,  no,”  answered  Pandora,  again  beginning  to 
sob,  44 1 have  had  enough  of  lifting  the  lid  ! You  are 
inside  of  the  box,  naughty  creature,  and  there  you  shall 
stay  ! There  are  plenty  of  your  ugly  brothers  and 
sisters  already  flying  about  the  world.  You  need 
never  think  that  I shall  be  so  foolish  as  to  let  you 
out ! ” 

She  looked  towards  Epimetheus,  as  she  spoke,  per- 
haps expecting  that  he  would  commend  her  for  her 


98 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 


wisdom.  But  the  sullen  boy  only  muttered  that  she 
was  wise  a little  too  late. 

“ Ah,”  said  the  sweet  little  voice  again,  “ you  had 
much  better  let  me  out.  I am  not  like  those  naughty 
creatures  that  have  stings  in  their  tails.  They  are  no 
brothers  and  sisters  of  mine,  as  you  would  see  at  once, 
if  you  were  only  to  get  a glimpse  of  me.  Come,  come, 
my  pretty  Pandora ! I am  sure  you  will  let  me  out ! ” 

And,  indeed,  there  was  a kind  of  cheerful  witchery 
in  the  tone,  that  made  it  almost  impossible  to  refuse 
anything  which  this  little  voice  asked.  Pandora’s 
heart  had  insensibly  grown  lighter,  at  every  word  that 
came  from  within  the  box.  Epimetheus,  too,  though 
still  in  the  corner,  had  turned  half  round,  and  seemed 
to  be  in  rather  better  spirits  than  before. 

“ My  dear  Epimetheus,”  cried  Pandora,  “ have  you 
heard  this  little  voice  ? ” 

“Yes,  to  be  sure  I have,”  answered  he,  but  in  no 
very  good-humor  as  yet.  “ And  what  of  it  ? ” 

“ Shall  I lift  the  lid  again  ? ” asked  Pandora. 

“ Just  as  you  please,”  said  Epimetheus.  “ You  have 
done  so  much  mischief  already,  that  perhaps  you  may 
as  well  do  a little  more.  One  other  Trouble,  in  such 
a swarm  as  you  have  set  adrift  about  the  world,  can 
make  no  very  great  difference.” 

“You  might  speak  a little  more  kindly!”  murmured 
Pandora,  wiping  her  eyes. 

“ Ah,  naughty  boy ! ” cried  the  little  voice  within 
the  box,  in  an  arch  and  laughing  tone.  “ He  knows 
he  is  longing  to  see  me.  Come,  my  dear  Pandora, 
lift  up  the  lid.  I am  in  a great  hurry  to  comfort  you. 
Only  let  me  have  some  fresh  air,  and  you  shall  soon 
see  that  matters  are  not  quite  so  dismal  as  you  think 
them ! ” 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN . 99 

44  Epimetheus,”  exclaimed  Pandora,  44  come  what 
may,  I am  resolved  to  open  the  box  ! ” 

44  And,  as  the  lid  seems  very  heavy,”  cried  Epime- 
theus,  running  across  the  room,  46 1 will  help  you ! ” 

So,  with  one  consent,  the  two  children  again  lifted 
the  lid.  Out  flew  a sunny  and  smiling  little  person- 
age, and  hovered  about  the  room,  throwing  a light 
wherever  she  went.  Have  you  never  made  the  sun- 
shine dance  into  dark  corners,  by  reflecting  it  from 
a bit  of  looking-glass  ? W ell,  so  looked  the  winged 
cheerfulness  of  this  fairy-like  stranger,  amid  the  gloom 
of  the  cottage.  She  flew  to  Epimetheus,  and  laid  the 
least  touch  of  her  finger  on  the  inflamed  spot  where 
the  Trouble  had  stung  him,  and  immediately  the  an- 
guish of  it  was  gone.  Then  she  kissed  Pandora  on 
the  forehead,  and  her  hurt  was  cured  likewise. 

After  performing  these  good  offices,  the  bright 
stranger  fluttered  sportively  over  the  children’s  heads, 
and  looked  so  sweetly  at  them,  that  they  both  began 
to  think  it  not  so  very  much  amiss  to  have  opened  the 
box,  since,  otherwise,  their  cheery  guest  must  have 
been  kept  a prisoner  among  those  naughty  imps  with 
stings  in  their  tails. 

44  Pray,  who  are  you,  beautiful  creature  ? ” inquired 
Pandora. 

44 1 am  to  be  called  Hope  ! ” answered  the  sunshiny 
figure.  44  And  because  I am  such  a cheery  little  body, 
I was  packed  into  the  box,  to  make  amends  to  the  hu- 
man race  for  that  swarm  of  ugly  Troubles,  which  was 
destined  to  be  let  loose  among  them.  Never  fear  ! we 
shall  do  pretty  well  in  spite  of  them  all.” 

44  Your  wings  are  colored  like  the  rainbow ! ” ex- 
claimed Pandora.  44  How  very  beautiful ! ” 

44  Yes,  they  are  like  the  rainbow,”  said  Hope,  44  be- 


100 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


cause,  glad  as  my  nature  is,  I am  partly  made  of  tears 
as  well  as  smiles.” 

44  And  will  you  stay  with  us,”  asked  Epimetheus, 
46  forever  and  ever  ? ” 

44  As  long  as  you  need  me,”  said  Hope,  with  her 
pleasant  smile,  — 44  and  that  will  be  as  long  as  you 
live  in  the  world,  — I promise  never  to  desert  you. 
There  may  come  times  and  season's,  now  and  then, 
when  you  will  think  that  I have  utterly  vanished. 
But  again,  and  again,  and  again,  when  perhaps  you 
least  dream  of  it,  you  shall  see  the  glimmer  of  my 
wings  on  the  ceiling  of  your  cottage.  Yes,  my  dear 
children,  and  I know  something  very  good  and  beauti- 
ful that  is  to  be  given  you  hereafter  ! ” 

44  Oh  tell  us,”  they  exclaimed,  — 44  tell  us  what  it 
is!” 

44  Do  not  ask  me,”  replied  Hope,  putting  her  finger 
on  her  rosy  mouth.  44  But  do  not  despair,  even  if  it 
should  never  happen  while  you  live  on  this  earth. 
Trust  in  my  promise,  for  it  is  true.” 

44 We  do  trust  you!”  cried  Epimetheus  and  Pan- 
dora, both  in  one  breath. 

And  so  they  did ; and  not  only  they,  but  so  has 
everybody  trusted  Hope,  that  has  since  been  alive. 
And  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I cannot  help  being  glad  — 
(though,  to  be  sure,  it  was  an  uncommonly  naughty 
thing  for  her  to  do)  — but  I cannot  help  being  glad 
that  our  foolish  Pandora  peeped  into  the  box.  No 
doubt  — no  doubt  — the  Troubles  are  still  flying  about 
the  world,  and  have  increased  in  multitude,  rather 
than  lessened,  and  are  a very  ugly  set  of  imps,  and 
carry  most  venomous  stings  in  their  tails.  I have  felt 
them  already,  and  expect  to  feel  them  more,  as  I grow 
older.  But  then  that  lovely  and  lightsome  little  figure 


THE  PARADISE  OF  CHILDREN. 


101 


of  Hope!  What  in  the  world  could  we  do  without 
her?  Hope  spiritualizes  the  earth;  Hope  makes  it 
always  new ; and,  even  in  the  earth’s  best  and  brightest 
aspect,  Hope  shows  it  to  be  only  the  shadow  of  an  in- 
finite bliss  hereafter  I 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 

AFTER  THE  STORY. 

%c  Primrose,”  asked  Eustace,  pinching  her  ear, 
•‘how  do  you  like  my  little  Pandora?  Don’t  you 
think  her  the  exact  picture  of  yourself?  But  you 
would  not  have  hesitated  half  so  long  about  opening 
the  box.” 

44  Then  I should  have  been  well  punished  for  my 
naughtiness,”  retorted  Primrose,  smartly ; c4  for  the 
first  thing  to  pop  out,  after  the  lid  was  lifted,  would 
have  been  Mr.  Eustace  Bright,  in  the  shape  of  a 
Trouble.” 

44  Cousin  Eustace,”  said  Sweet  Fern,  44  did  the  box 
hold  all  the  trouble  that  has  ever  come  into  the 
world?” 

44  Every  mite  of  it ! ” answered  Eustace.  44  This 
very  snow-storm,  which  has  spoiled  my  skating,  was 
packed  up  there.” 

44  And  how  big  was  the  box  ? ” asked  Sweet  Fern. 

44  Why,  perhaps  three  feet  long,”  said  Eustace, 
44  two  feet  wide,  and  two  feet  and  a half  high.” 

44  Ah,”  said  the  child,  44  you  are  making  fun  of  me, 
Cousin  Eustace  ! I know  there  is  not  trouble  enough 
in  the  world  to  fill  such  a great  box  as  that.  As  for 
the  ♦snow-storm,  it  is  no  trouble  at  all,  but  a pleasure ; 
so  it  could  not  have  been  in  the  box.” 


102 


TANGLEWOOD  PLAY-ROOM. 


“ Hear  the  child ! ” cried  Primrose,  with  an  air  of 
superiority.  “ How  little  he  knows  about  the  troubles 
of  this  world ! Poor  fellow ! He  will  be  wiser  when 
he  has  seen  as  much  of  life  as  I have.” 

So  saying,  she  began  to  skip  the  rope. 

Meantime,  the  day  was  drawing  towards  its  close. 
Out  of  doors  the  scene  certainly  looked  dreary.  There 
was  a gray  drift,  far  and  wide,  through  the  gathering 
twilight ; the  earth  was  as  pathless  as  the  air ; and  the 
bank  of  snow  over  the  steps  of  the  porch  proved  that 
nobody  had  entered  or  gone  out  for  a good  many 
hours  past.  Had  there  been  only  one  child  at  the 
window  of  Tanglewood,  gazing  at  this  wintry  prospect, 
it  would  perhaps  have  made  him  sad.  But  half  a 
dozen  children  together,  though  they  cannot  quite 
turn  the  world  into  a paradise,  may  defy  old  Winter 
and  all  his  storms  to  put  them  out  of  spirits.  Eustace 
Bright,  moreover,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  invented 
several  new  kinds  of  play,  which  kept  them  all  in  a 
roar  of  merriment  till  bedtime,  and  served  for  the 
next  stormy  day  besides. 


NOTES. 

The  Gorgon’s  Head. 

Page  21.  Set  them  afloat  upon  the  sea.  Hawthorne  does  not 
say  that  it  was  the  grandfather  of  Perseus,  Acrisius,  king  of 
Argos,  who  put  him  and  his  mother  into  the  chest  and  set  them 
afloat.  It  had  been  foretold  that  Acrisius  should  meet  his  death 
at  the  hands  of  his  grandson,  and  he  sought  to  free  himself 
from  the  danger. 

A fisherman.  Dictys. 

Page  27.  My  sister.  Minerva,  the  goddess  of  wisdom. 

Page  28.  Three  Gray  Women.  The  Grsese,  or  Phorcydes, 
daughters  of  Phorcys  and  Ceto.  They  were  gray-haired  from 
birth,  whence  the  name  Grsese.  They  were  always  associated 
with  their  sisters  the  Gorgons,  whose  guards  they  were. 

Page  33.  Sister  Scarecrow , etc.  The  individual  names  which 
Hawthorne  gives  to  the  Three  Gray  Women  are  free  renderings 
of  their  Greek  names. 

Page  35.  Helmet  of  darkness.  This  was  the  special  property 
of  Pluto. 

Page  41.  On  the  shore  of  that  island.  The  Greek  poet  Hesiod 
represented  the  Gorgons  as  living  in  the  islands  of  the  sea,  but 
the  later  poets  generally  gave  them  a dwelling-place  in  Libya. 

Page  42.  .Medusa  was  the  only  one.  The  other  Gorgons  were 
immortal. 

Page  45.  A beautiful  maiden.  Andromeda. 

An  enormous  giant.  Atlas. 

Page  48.  They  whitened  into  marble.  The  island  of  Seriphus 
is  very  rocky,  and  from  this  fact  some  scholars  trace  the  origin 
of  the  story  that  King  Polydectes  and  his  people  were  turned 
into  stone. 

The  Golden  Touch. 

Page  56.  Sweetest  roses.  Midas  is  said  to  have  had  a garden 
in  which  grew  roses  having  sixty  petals  and  the  most  wonderful 
fragrance. 


104 


NOTES. 


An  idle  story  about  his  ears.  Pan,  having  aspired  to  rival 
Apollo  in  music,  was  adjudged  vanquished  ; but  Midas  refused 
to  acquiesce  in  this  decision,  and  Apollo  therefore  changed  his 
ears  to  those  of  an  ass,  in  token  of  his  stupidity. 

Page  60.  The  Golden  Touch . The  usual  story  of  the  be- 
stowal of  the  Golden  Touch  is  as  follows:  Silenus,  a demigod, 
who  was  the  preceptor  and  companion  of  Bacchus,  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  the  rose  garden  of  Midas.  At  one  time  Midas 
captured  him  and  detained  him  for  ten  days;  but  at  the  end  of 
that  time  restored  him  to  Bacchus,  who  was  so  grateful  that  he 
desired  Midas  to  ask  whatever  gift  he  would;  and  the  foolish 
king,  not  realizing  what  it  would  mean  to  him,  begged  that 
whatever  he  touched  might  be  turned  to  gold. 

Page  74.  The  sands  of  the  river  sparkled  like  gold.  According 
to  the  old  stories  it  was  the  river  Pactolus  in  which  Midas  washed 
away  the  Golden  Touch,  and  its  sands  thereafter  were  golden. 

The  Paradise  of  Children 

Page  82.  Epimetheus  . . . Pandora.  With  the  myth  of  Epi- 
metheus  and  Pandora,  Hawthorne  has  taken  even  more  liberty 
than  is  his  wont.  In  classic  mythology,  Epimetheus  was  the 
son  of  the  Titan  Iapetus  and  his  wife  Clymene,  and  had  three 
brothers,  — Prometheus,  Atlas,  and  Mencetius.  Pandora  is  the 
Greek  Eve,  the  first-created  woman.  Jupiter,  being  incensed  at 
Prometheus,  who  had  succeeded  in  stealing  fire  from  heaven, 
determined  to  bring  trouble  upon  mankind.  To  this  end  he 
caused  a woman  to  be  created  who  was  endowed  with  all  gifts 
and  graces  (whence  the  name  Pandora,  all-gifted),  but  who  had 
nevertheless  an  untruthful  and  crafty  disposition.  Mercury 
brought  her  to  Epimetheus,  who,  in  spite  of  the  warnings  of 
Prometheus  to  accept  no  gifts  from  Jupiter,  received  her  and 
made  her  his  wife.  Prometheus  signifies  forethought,  Epime- 
theus, afterthought. 

A great  box.  According  to  some  versions  of  the  tale,  the  box 
was  sent  with  Pandora,  as  her  dowry. 


BOOKS  FOR  REFERENCE  AND  FURTHER  READING. 
CLASSICAL  DICTIONARIES. 

Harper’s  Dictionary  of  Classical  Literature  and  Antiquities. 

Edited  by  Harry  Thurston  Peck. 

Seyffert,  Oskar. 

Dictionary  of  Classical  Antiquities,  Mythology,  Religion,  Lit- 
erature, and  Art.  Revised  and  edited,  with  additions,  by 
Henry  Nettleship  and  J.  E.  Sandys. 

Smith,  William. 

A Classical  Dictionary  of  Greek  and  Roman  Biography,  Mytho- 
logy, and  Geography.  Revised  by  G.  E.  Marindin. 

GENERAL  WORKS  ON  MYTHOLOGY. 

Bulfinch,  Thomas. 

The  Age  of  Fable.  New  Edition,  edited  by  Edward  Everett 
Hale. 

Collignon,  Maxime. 

Manual  of  Mythology,  in  Relation  to  Greek  Art.  Translated 
and  enlarged  by  Jane  E.  Harrison.  Illustrated. 

Guerber,  H»  A. 

Myths  of  Greece  and  Rome,  narrated  with  Special  Reference 
to  Literature  and  Art.  Illustrated. 

Murray,  Alexander  Stuart. 

Manual  of  Mythology.  Illustrated. 

Petiscus,  A.  H. 

The  Gods  of  Olympos,  or  Mythology  of  the  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans. Translated  and  edited  by  Katherine  A.  Raleigh. 
Illustrated. 

Seeman,  Justus  Otto  Eberhard. 

The  Mythology  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Translated  from  the 
German.  Illustrated. 

Beckwith,  M.  Helen. 

In  Mythland.  Illustrated. 

This  is  a book  for  very  small  children ; twelve  of  the  best 
known  myths  told  in  the  simplest  possible  language. 


106 


BOOKS  FOR  REFERENCE . 


POEMS  AND  STORIES 

EMBODYING  OR  ILLUSTRATING  THE  MYTHS  WHICH  HAWTHORNE 
HAS  USED. 

Classical  Sources.  — The  stories  of  the  Wonder-Book  and 
Tanglewood  Tales  originated  among  the  Greeks.  Most  of  them 
may  be  found  in  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  of  Homer,  or  in  the 
Theogony  and  the  Works  and  Days  of  Hesiod  ; several  are  given 
by  both  these  poets.  The  same  legends  appear  in  varying  forms 
in  later  Greek  authors,  and  the  Latin  writers  have  made  free 
use  of  them.  They  have,  indeed,  become  the  common  property 
of  all  literature,  and  are,  as  Hawthorne  says,  “ marvellously 
independent  of  all  temporary  modes  and  circumstances.” 

The  Gorgon’s  Head. 

Kingsley,  Charles. 

Perseus.  (In  The  Heroes .) 

Morris,  William. 

The  Doom  of  King  Acrisius.  (In  The  Earthly  Paradise.') 
Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel. 

Aspecta  Medusa.  (In  Poems.) 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe. 

On  the  Medusa  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  (In  Poems.) 

Dowden,  Edward. 

Andromeda.  (In  Poems.) 

Bryant,  William  Cullen. 

Version  of  a Fragment  of  Simonides.  [Danae’s  Lament  over 
her  Child.]  (In  Poems.) 

The  Paradise  of  Children. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth. 

The  Masque  of  Pandora. 

Fields,  Annie. 

Pandora  : A Festival  Play.  (In  Under  the  Olive.) 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel. 

Pandora.  (Sonnet.) 


